Merely Freshmen
by TStabler
Summary: Halfway through their freshman year at Holy Cross Academy, the lives of Olivia Benson & Elliot Stabler become tragically complicated. They turn to each other, & a few mutual friends, for support & stability. When things get worse, they realize their history together & trust in each other is what may just save their lives. EO coming-of-age AU, M for situations & future storylines.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: A new one, a high-school-era AU fic that began as an original story but seemed to beg to be transformed into the lives of my favorite duo. If it's not your thing, that's okay, but it begged to be written. Thanks for reading.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.**

"All right, class," the English teacher smiled at the faces of her students, "Some of these were rather impressive," she began handing papers back, one by one. "Miss Cabot, very insightful." She moved up and down rows. "Some of them were...not so good. Mister Cassidy, nice try, but I'm old enough to realize you simply wrote the lyrics to a Beatles song. See me after class." She stopped next to a desk, it's occupant a very handsome young man with bright blue eyes and a sheepish grin. "Mister Stabler, this was good. Dark, but good."

The young man nodded at her as he took his paper, and then looked at the girl next to him, watching the teacher slide a piece of paper on her desk.

"Miss Benson," the teacher said, and then she leaned a little closer, "Olivia, dear, this was beautifully written."

Without looking up from her notebook, the girl mumbled a thank you.

Having reached the last student, the teacher looked up. "Okay," she sounded frustrated as she ripped off her glasses and curled one chalk-dusted hand against her hip. "I have one paper without a name, but ironically, it's the best piece of writing any of you have turned in, so far." She cleared her throat. "Who didn't get their paper back?"

A chorus of silence, and not a single raised hand, answered her, followed by heads turning and whispered murmurs.

"You all got your poems back?" she asked again, stupefied. A bit of black-grey hair fell out of the knot at the nape of her neck, held in place by a broken pencil. "Huh," she huffed.

Elliot Stabler, curling the edges of his lined paper, it's red-emblem B folding away, looked toward the front of the room, ignoring the teacher, his focus on someone else. Olivia. Her chestnut hair was held back with the standard-issue uniform headband, her eyes trained on whatever it was she was scrawling in her notebook. Her pale hand rested against her cheek as she leaned on her desk, and he wished, more than anything, that he could, even for a moment, replace it with his lips.

"So, who wrote this, then?" the teacher asked, lifting the paper up in front of her face with one hand as the other slipped her spectacles back onto her middle-aged face. "The way your fists speak, like lion-roars in a library, like beaten-drums in an empty theater, no audience to muffle the blows, the echoes reverberating in my hollow chest and humming against my ears."

Olivia, Elliot noticed, froze in her seat. Her hand stopped moving, her pencil fell against her desk, and her head slowly straightened up. He knew then. She wrote it.

The teacher spoke again, continuing to read. "The way your hands sing, with sour notes and vibrato like moth-eaten angel's wings, making vain attempts at shielding, the war still creeping in and leaving its destruction in the needle-eye tears in their feathers, the cold seeping in, despite their half-hearted shelter. The way your lips bruise, your mace-wielding tongue landing uppercuts to my soul with every right-hook word from your sandpaper voice, and no one to offer salve or salvation. The way your eyes dance, waltzing around my battle-scars without missing a beat, gracefully sidestepping my tattered and torn skin, exposing dried and scabbed remnants of rounds in the ring with an unworthy opponent I no longer have the strength to fight."

Silence.

Dead silence.

Every face is the room was staring back at the teacher, and not because of her rather eccentric outfit and unkempt hair. Slack-jawed expressions revealed their amazement at the words the teacher had read, and no one had any idea someone in their midst was capable of such powerfully tragic work.

Without saying a word, or even acknowledging anyone in the classroom, Olivia slammed her notebook shut, stacked her books, rose with a swift kick of her chair, and bolted, not even concerned that bell hadn't rung, and she'd probably be in trouble for leaving without permission.

The class began murmuring, whispered accusations, snickers, insults under their breath mixed with a few heartfelt compliments, all directed at a person who was no longer in the room. Elliot shook his head, disgusted at their behavior, more nauseated by the fact that no one seemed to be making any attempt to go after her. "Fuck this," he said, getting out of his seat. He left his books where they were, though, as he ran out of the room. He looked up and down the hallway, trying to figure out which direction she'd gone in, looking for any clues she may have left behind.

He took a chance and turned left, running down the hall, stopping in front of a door that gave him hives. Taking a deep breath, he pressed a palm against the wood of the door, feeling his heart pound hard. He wasn't sure if it was the fear of the unknown that lied beyond the panel, or knowing she was there, alone, that caused the anxiety to rise. With another deep breath, he slapped his free hand over his eyes and pushed against the door, opening it. "Benson?" he called blindly into the girls' bathroom. As his voice echoed off the tiled walls, he took hesitant step forward. "Benson, come on, are you in here or not?"

He heard a squeak, a stall door creaking open, and soft footsteps heading toward him.

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and pulled his hand away from his face. "Get out of here, Stabler. You're already on the headmaster's shit-list, you can't be caught in here." She turned away from him and shook her head.

He bit his lip as he watched her move, tilting his head as she washed her hands and pressed her wet palms against her face. "Are you okay? You ran out of there like…"

"I didn't mean to hand that in," she almost whispered, her head down. Her hands were curled on either side of the sink, her knuckles turning white as she gripped it hard. "I never meant...no one was ever supposed to read that, and she...the whole class heard…" she paused, her voice cracking, and she had just finished crying, there was no way she would let herself start up again, especially not in front of Elliot.

He moved closer to her, reached out a hand slowly lowering it to her shoulder. She jumped and gasped, but he squeezed, feeling her tightly knotted muscles beneath his strong fingers. "Hey, hey," he said gently, "It's me. It's just me." He kept one hand on her shoulder, working out her tension, and his other hand moved up her arm, up her neck, and cupped the side of her face. He narrowed his eyes when he saw her flinch. "What you wrote...it was incredible."

She rolled her eyes. "Bull," she scoffed. Her breath hitched when his thumb smoothed under her eye, wiping away a tear she didn't realize had fallen.

"I'm serious," he told her. "I mean, honestly, I wrote seven lines and made 'orange' rhyme with 'door-hinge,' and got a B minus, so I can only imagine what kind of absolute shit everyone else handed in," he chuckled, and his smile lingered when he noticed she gave him a small laugh, too. "You have a way with words that...I read a lot, and I've never even read anything that deep, so you shouldn't be embarrassed. You should be proud." His eyes met hers. "I'm proud of you. Writing that...that took balls of steel. Real strength."

She shook her head, feeling his fingertips brush against her cheek as she moved. "I wrote it after my mom...I just needed to vent, and I was...I guess when I ripped my homework out of my notebook I grabbed it...and then she read it…" she stopped, and she blinked. "No one was supposed to read it."

"What did she do this time?" he asked in a whisper. "Talk to me." He moved the hand from her shoulder to the other side of her face, holding her head still, keeping his eyes on hers. "Talk to me." He watched her mouth open slightly, a word on the verge of being born, but all that came out was a small, choked sob as she collapsed in his arms. "Whoa, oh, okay," he stammered, using all of his strength to support her as she fell further into him, his arms wrapping around her tightly. His mind raced with a million things he could say to calm her, to get her to laugh, to make her smile, but at this moment, they all sounded stupid. He just held her as she cried, and he kissed the side of her head. "I'm here, right here. I got you," was all he said, all he offered.

To her, it was more than enough.

It was everything.

It took only a few minutes, but her breathing slowed and her cries quieted, and she sniffled as she pushed herself up and away from his chest. "I'm sorry," she wheezed, "Shit, I'm so sorry." She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath.

He shook his head with a firm look in his eyes. "Never be sorry about that," he told her, his hand grabbing hers. "About anything. Not with me." His other hand stretched out toward the paper-towel dispenser and he yanked a rough, brown sheet down and tore it away from the roll. He tilted his head as he wiped her eyes, and then moved just a bit closer to her. He folded the towel over her nose. "Blow," he said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes and laughed softly, but did as he commanded and blew her nose, nodding when she was finished.

He tossed the crumpled paper-towel into a nearby trash bin and pulled her even closer to him, his nose touching hers now. "What did she do?"

She sighed, closed her eyes, and let her forehead press against his. "Drank herself stupid," she said bitterly. "Played an invigorating game of Whack-A-Liv."

"Don't...don't trivialize this," he said, knowing she was using humor to deflect, to soften the blow. "You can make all the jokes you want, I'm not laughing." He felt her breath, hot against his lips, and he whispered, "Stay with me, tonight. Wait till she passes out, I'll leave the ladder up, she won't...she won't hurt you, tonight." He took a moment, contemplating his next words. "Maybe you can tell my dad about…"

"No," she straightened up fast. The color that had only begun to return to her face flushed away again. "No way in Hell!"

"Okay, okay, forget I mentioned it," he said, his eyes wide and his hand still firmly grasping hers. He pulled her to him again, this time, his lips hit their target. The kiss was soft, gentle, but emotional. Pulling away with an almost silent smacking sound, he exhaled harshly and said, "You're still staying...staying with me, right?"

Hesitating for a minute, she stared at him, into his blue eyes. She blinked once. "Yeah."

Relief flooded him. He let out a deep sigh and tugged her back toward him. He kissed her again, slowly this time, litting his lips linger on hers, allowing his tongue to trail lightly across the seam of her mouth. When she gasped, he took flight, his tongue now dancing effortlessly with hers. One hand left it's home in her palm to find new shelter at the nape of her neck, holding her, caressing her.

She pushed him away gingerly, catching her breath as their lips parted. "The bell's gonna ring, you really shouldn't be in here to begin with, if anyone come in to…"

"Oh, you just don't want to be caught making out with me," he laughed, softly moving her hair behind her ear.

With a laugh and raised eyebrows, she said, "Not in the bathroom!"

He laughed, then, too, and looped an arm around her as he guided them both to the door. "I left my stuff in Miss Brenner's class," he said. "I, uh, I think you should come back with me." He used his available arm to carry the books she'd dropped on the corner of a sink, and he kissed her temple. "Take credit for your masterpiece."

Nodding, she walked with him, one arm around his waist, the other at hr side, her hand shoved in the pocket of her navy blue, wool cardigan. She was surprised at how comfortable it was, how she fit against him so perfectly, no matter how they positioned themselves. He was tall for his age, stronger than most of the other freshmen. His low voice and slight layer of stubble contradicted his playful, energetic personality. He was sincere, but tough. He was defensive and aggressive, but overprotective when it came to her, and she wondered how she got lucky enough to have him in her life. She didn't believe in coincidences, but she didn't believe in fate, either. She looked over at him and realized he was really the only thing she believed in completely.

"I know what you're thinking," he said, turning to her as they stopped in front of the door to their English classroom. "You're right."

"Am I?" she asked, her fear and sadness pushed aside to let his light in, "And what do you think I'm thinking anyway?"

"We're different," he said. "We're both, uh, a lot older than we're supposed to be. You and me, baby, we grew up a long time ago. That's why we are...the way that we are. We get each other, and...and we belong to each other." He kissed her cheek and asked, "Don't we?"

She nodded, pressed her lips to his tenderly, and said, "We do."

The bell rang just as Elliot pulled the door to the room open. Olivia walked in first, shooting an apologetic glance toward the teacher, who looked back at her with an unreadable expression in her eyes. She waited near the chalkboard for Elliot, who ran to his desk to scoop up his books. She watched, only from her periphery, as the students passed her, whispering to each other, their heads turning to keep staring at her as they filed out into the hallway.

She let a slow smile spread across her face. They could talk all they wanted, they could stare if it made them happy. There was only one person that really mattered to her, and he took his place at her side as soon as he could.

"Sorry, Miss Brenner," he said, offering a charming smile. "I had to check on her after she…"

"Understandable, Mister Stabler," the woman said, and then she turned toward Olivia, holding out the poem, folded, and slowly handing it to her. "You wrote this," she said. "I should have known. You really have a talent, here, Miss Benson. I just…" she cleared her throat. "If there's ever anything you need to talk about, you know, my door is always open."

"It's just a poem," Olivia said fast, taking her paper. "But thank you." She smiled, and turned around when Elliot pulled her toward the door. She let him pull her close and she looked up at him with love in her eyes. She was grateful for Miss Brenner's offer, but she didn't need her open door. She already had an open window.

Elliot's.

 **A/N: Different, for me. This will eventually take us through all four years, touching on moments of their history given in canon, and others given to them by me. Thank you for giving it a chance.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: A bit more insight into just how quickly these two have grown up.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.**

"Two houses," Elliot read to himself, lying back on his bed. He had a pen in his hand as he stared up at the book, stifling a yawn. "Both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene." He underlined the word _Verona_ and noted in the margin that it was the setting of the play. He knew it would be a question asked in class the next day, and he had a reputation to protect.

A loud thump drew his attention away from Shakespeare, and he sat up fast, throwing Romeo and Juliet across the bed. He got up just in time to see another bag, a navy blue backpack, come sailing through his window. He caught it with a laugh, and then dropped it into the corner of his room. He heard the clanging of the metal ladder against the side of his house as he moved the duffle bag that had flown through his window. He then reached a hand out and grabbed the wrist of the girl climbing in through the pane. "Hey," he breathed, relieved, as he pulled her into his room.

She smiled at him. "Hey, yourself," she quipped, pulling her tee shirt down as she straightened up. "You look…"

He didn't give her time to finish talking, he threw his arms around her and squeezed tightly, knocking the wind out of both of them. He let out a choked sound, but no words followed.

"What...what is this?" she asked, stunned, slowly moving her arms to return his embrace.

He held her a moment longer, and then he took a deep breath and pushed away from her a bit. "I was just...I mean, I thought that…" he cleared his throat. "What did she do to you, this time? Are you okay?"

"Fine," she said, staring at him. "You're the one having a meltdown." She plopped down onto the bed and kicked off her sneakers, they hit his wall before falling to the carpet. "Wanna tell me why?"

He sat next to her and rested one hand over her knee, squeezing lightly. "You're usually here, by now, and I thought…"

"You thought I wasn't coming?" she asked, her eyes narrow. "You know I always…"

"No, I knew...I knew you were coming, but...I thought she tried to stop you, I thought she…" he stopped, and he reached a hand up to smooth a fly-away hair back behind her ear, something he often did, an excuse to touch her. "I hate her for what she does to you," he whispered, searching her brown eyes.

She looked back at him, seeing his truth in his eyes and maybe, if she was really looking, she saw something that resembled love. "Well," she sighed, dropping her gaze before she let herself blush, "She hates me for what he did to her." She chuckled lightly. "Guess we're even."

"Don't justify…" he began, but he knew he was raising his voice, he felt heat rising, his anger getting the best of him and he almost directed it at the one person who didn't deserve it. "There's no excuse for what she does to you," he whispered. His hand smoothed up her leg from her knee, under her shirt, and he lifted the cotton to reveal an angry purple and yellow bruise on her side. "It looks like it's getting better," he lied, cringing. "I wish you'd tell my father about…"

She yanked the shirt back down, huffing, and she said, "Don't you get it?" Her brow furrowed as she shook her head, confused. "She only hits me when she's drunk. The only reason she drinks is to forget what happened to her, and to forget his face, and when she sees me, she sees him, and it…"

It was his turn to silence her with a kiss, his hands slipping to the back of her head, tangling beneath her ponytail. He heard her whimper against his closed lips, he felt her tremble in his arms, and for the second time that day, he held her as she cried. He pried his lips off of hers and pulled her closer to him, and he rubbed slow circles on her back as she sobbed quietly. "You're not him," he said to her. "You're nothing like him, and she has no right to hurt you just because she hasn't taken the time to realize it."

She blinked away a few more tears and sniffled hard, but stayed in his arms as she twisted to look up at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said with a single nod, looking down at her. "If she looked at you and saw, just once, even half of what I see when I look at you, she'd understand that you are...everything." He kissed her forehead and held her in silence, for a full minute, toying with the tendrils of hair at the nape of her neck that had escaped from their elastic. He nudged her lightly, garnering her attention, and he kissed her once, on the end of her nose.

He laughed when he saw her smile break, her eyes crinkle at the ends. "There she is," he said, brushing the back of one hand along her right cheek. "My happy girl." He gently kissed her again, and he looked over at her bag, curled in the corner where he'd moved it. "That, uh, that looks like more than just your uniform." He turned only his eyes toward her and raised one brow high.

Rolling her eyes, she fell back onto his bed, curling her hands under her head. "I figured...um...I'd stay. Just for a few days, until she runs out of rum or whatever, but if it's a problem I…"

"God, no, it's not a problem," he said, trying to keep his relieved excitement suppressed. He lay on his stomach, next to her, and looped one arm around her waist. "It's never a problem," he whispered into her ear. He stared at her as she stared at his ceiling, and something hit him. "You have the cutest ears."

The laugh that erupted from her made her entire body shake and she clapped her hands as she rolled onto her side and propped up on one elbow. "What?" Her laughter didn't stop, but her right arm draped over his body and she looked at him with bright eyes. "I have what?"

He laughed, too, unable to believe he'd said it out loud. "You do," he shrugged. He said it, no point in trying to deny it. "You have cute ears, and the cutest nose, and the...prettiest smile...the most beautiful brown eyes…" as he spoke, he realized he was moving closer and closer to her, until he kissed her.

She felt him pulling her closer, her body giving in to his demand, and she kissed him back, so slowly, but so deeply. She backed up when she needed to breathe, and she let her head rest against his. "Why?" she whispered.

"Huh?" His mind had gone blank, his heart was racing and his male anatomy refused to cooperate with gravity. He shifted his weight and said, "Why...what?"

"Why me?" she asked just as softly. "You're this huge school jock, you're absolutely...you know, you're hot. You have half the girls in our class eating out of the palm of your hand, and some of those senior girls look at you like...they want to be the ones to take off your training wheels." She smirked at him, wagging her eyebrows.

He rolled his eyes with a scoff. "My training wheels are only being used, and coming off, for one person, when the time comes." He pressed his lips to hers quickly, for emphasis.

Again, she turned her face, hiding it in his shirt to keep him from seeing her blush. "But...why? I mean, if all those pretty, popular, cheerleaders…"

"Because," he interrupted her, "I don't know them. I don't want to know them. I just want…" he took a breath. "You." He shrugged again, letting his hand fall to her hip. He played with the seam of her sweatpants' pocket. "I know you, I...I understand you, and you get me. Like no one else could. We just click."

"We kinda do, yeah," she said, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

"We always have," he said. "Ever since the…" he tilted his head. "You remember the night you first told me she hit you?"

She sucked her lip between her teeth and nodded. "I can't forget it," she whispered. "I've never been so thankful for a ladder before in my life," she laughed.

"Me either," he said, blinking, and remembering the night, almost seven years ago, when a crashing sound woke him in the middle of the night. When he'd turned on his light, he'd seen her curled in a ball right by the window, crying. She'd apologized for waking up, told him she'd run away, and when she'd looked at him he'd seen the skin under her right eye start to turn purple. He'd sat beside her and hugged her, and he'd asked who hurt her. She'd told him the truth, with no hesitation, and then he'd said how glad he was that the house painters had left the ladder out, and how fate must have made him open his window. "And then I told you about my dad, and we thought it meant we had some kind of weird cosmic connection because we were just alike."

"Kind of opened Pandora's Box that night, didn't we?" she chuckled.

He kissed her forehead and said, "In the best way possible. We just kept getting closer and closer and…" he looked into her eyes, then. "And I don't…" he blew a breath out as he tried to decide if being honest would earn or lose him points. "I don't care about those other girls. I don't even see them." His breath caught in his throat as her eyes turned up and met his again, and he nuzzled her nose as he said, "I only see you."

She felt a tug in her chest and a burn in the back of her nose, but she refused to cry. "I don't get it," she said, scooting closer to him. "I just don't understand."

Elliot's eyes widened. "You don't have any idea how amazing you…"

"No," she said, stopping him. "I mean, well, no, I don't think I'm amazing, and I don't think I deserve you caring so much," she paused to inhale, her lungs and nostrils filled with his scent. Peppermint and chocolate, and the off-brand cologne he rubbed on his neck and shoulders from torn-out magazine ads. "I don't understand how you and me…" her eyes looked into his, her heart pounded against her chest. "We come from people who don't know how to love. No one taught us how, no one instilled it in us, but yet...I know how to feel, and I know what I feel, and I'm pretty sure it's love." She blinked. "Or am I an idiot? I mean, maybe I'm not old enough to realize it's not, but I know...with you I feel...like I love you, and like someone loves me."

He brushed her hair back, smiling with adoration in his eyes. "Because I do. Our parents...they fucking suck, okay?" He chuckled at the look on her face. "I will wash my mouth out with soap, later, okay, Miss Priss?" he teased. "But they do. They didn't teach us shit about fuck, except how to hide ace bandages under gym socks, and the only reason I know how to love you so...so much more than I probably should, on a level that should scare me shitless…" he kissed her nose again, "Is because I learned from you. You taught me everything I need to know about love." He bit his lip. "Well, ya know, everything so far. We have a lot left to learn, you and me, but I think it's...yeah, it's safe to say that I want to learn everything else from you, too. With you."

Olivia, stunned into silence, nodded, and she moved without thinking until her lips touched his. It was the first time she was the one to separate lips, she ran her tongue lightly across his lower teeth, making them both moan.

Their hands remained still, resting on each other's backs, not making any attempt to do more than kiss, but they felt so much more than ever.

Elliot pulled back, gasping, and he brushed his nose against hers as he struggled to catch his breath. "It's nothing...that can be taught, anyway, right? Just feeling...just knowing…and figuring it out, together. You and me."

She nodded, her head and nose grazing his. "Yeah," she breathed, agreeing with his half-spoken sentiment. She understood him clearly, always, even when he wasn't making any sense to himself.

His eyes closed, and he pulled her closer, reaching behind him with one hand to grab his quilt. He threw it over them and gave her another soft kiss. "I'm never gonna let anyone hurt you," he mumbled. "Never again, okay?"

She held him tight as the exhaustion of her day and hellish night took over, her heavy lids falling. Part of her believed him, had faith in him and his sleepy promise, but a bigger part of her knew that it was a promise he couldn't keep. She knew that when she went home, there would be more pain, more scars, and more secrets she had to keep from everyone except Elliot.

"Promise," he said, as if knowing her thoughts, sensing her doubt. He didn't know how he'd keep it, but he meant it with every cell in his body and beat of his heart.

"Mmm-hmm," she hummed, almost asleep, listening to the drum in chest keeping a steady rhythm.

He moved a bit, wrapping one leg around her ankles, and he heard something fall to the floor. He smiled, his lips pressed against her forehead, and he knew that the rest of Act One, Scene One of Romeo and Juliet would go unread, tonight.

He didn't need Shakespeare to tell him that love was worth dying for, anyway. He realized, as he felt Olivia move against him, that he already knew.

 **A/N: Next chapter, back to school...and does Elliot keep his promise? Sort of… But how?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: A brief lesson on how difficult being too "grown up" makes fitting in with everyone else.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.**

"So, to reiterate, any organism that uses sunlight, water, and/or gases such as carbon dioxide and nitrogen to produce their own source of food or energy is called a…" The teacher trailed off and looked out at her class, hopeful, and grinned when a few hands shot into the air. "Mister Stabler?" she gestured to Elliot with an open palm.

"Producer," he said with a firm nod, confident in his answer. He was fully aware that the girls on either side of him were staring at him, but he was adamantly trying to ignore one. He shot a glance and smile toward Olivia, smiled warmly, and shot a thumb over his shoulder at the blonde grinning like a loon at him. He rolled his eyes and made a disgusted face, telling her he had absolutely no interest.

She laughed to herself and nodded, and then turned back toward the front of the room. She raised her hand, hearing the tail end of the teacher's question. "Primary consumer," she said, and she heard Elliot whisper, "That's my girl." She blushed and sunk a bit lower in her seat, shooting a coy smile at him again.

He felt heat rise, not just to his cheeks, and he knew that somehow, he'd tear down her walls and build up all of the strength and confidence that her mother had chipped away over the years. He looked toward the teacher for a moment, finding her hunched over a student's desk in attempt to get the kid to understand how decomposers worked. He scooted his desk closer to Olivia and leaned in a bit, whispering to her. "Hey," he said, getting her attention. When she looked at him, he grinned, and said, "My dad's gotta work late tonight, and my mom has her book club thing...so I'm thinking we order pizza and watch that movie about the teacher with the deaf kid…"

"Mister Holland's Opus?" she returned with a half-smile. She knew he had known exactly what movie it was; he'd been begging her to watch it with him for weeks. "Sounds perfect."

His smile grew wider and he leaned back in his chair, an excitement building in his chest. The bell rang, making him jump, and he laughed at himself. He scooped up his books and stood up, anxious to walk Olivia to her next class, but the blonde that had been staring at him got in his way. "Yo, watch it!" he spat, nearly bumping into her.

"Hi, Elliot," the girl chirped, twirling her hair and trying her best to look desirable.

Elliot narrowed his eyes and scoffed. "Hi," he said flatly.

"Um, so, ya know the project we have to do for Myer's history class? The thing about the kings and stuff?" she giggled and leaned in the other direction.

"Yup," he grunted, nodding once, trying to signal Olivia to wait for him. He tried to side-step her, and he briefly debated hopping over a couple of desks.

"Well, we need partners, right?" she batted her eyes and licked her lips, and leaned closer to him. She ran a finger down the middle of his polo shirt and said, "Maybe you and I could…"

He swatted her hand away and said, "Kathy, I have a partner. We're actually almost done with the project already." He looked over at the door and saw Olivia, a scowl on her face, taking another step out. He raised a hand and told her to wait, and then looked back down. "I also have a girlfriend, so, could...you need to…" he grunted as he pushed the desk next to him over a few inches. "Excuse me," he said, pushing his way between Kathy and the desk, and he ran toward Olivia. He looped an arm around her and kissed her quickly, oblivious to the fumingly angry blonde glaring at them.

"What did she want?" Olivia questioned, it came out bitterly jealous.

He chuckled almost proudly at her reaction and to prove a point, he kissed her again. "Lame attempt at flirting with me," he said, guiding her out of he room and down the hall, heading for their next class. "And she asked me to do the monarch project with her."

Olivia narrowed her eyes. "It's due the day after tomorrow," she said. "She hasn't even started it?"

"Guess not," Elliot shrugged, "Not our problem, anyway."

They took their time walking down the hall, and he knew she was still irritated. He tugged on her a bit, getting her to stop and turn around. "Hey," he started. "You can't be mad at me for that, I tried like hell to get away from her, you saw me..."

"I'm not mad at you," she huffed. "I just...if that's what I have to compete with..."

He kissed her, his hands cupping her face. When he pulled back, he looked into her eyes. "I told you last night, you have nothing to worry about." He watched her, unblinking, and he said, "I swear."

She nodded, closing her eyes, and when she opened them, she rolled them. "What do you want, Cassidy?"

Elliot looked at her, confused, and then turned around to see Brian Cassidy, making goofy faces and flapping his tie up and down. "Finally!" he yelped. "I thought I was gonna have to drop trau to get your attention." He laughed cockily, and leaned up against the locker next to him. "Either of you in Pulaski's geometry class?"

"Pre-calc," Elliot said. "Both of us. Why?"

Cassidy groaned and keeled over with an exaggerated eye-roll. "I need the answers to last night's homework."

Olivia shook her head disapprovingly. "Why didn't you just actually do it?"

"I had a date," Cassidy said, as if it was obvious. "You know anyone else I could ask?" He started hitting Elliot in the head with his tie, the blue and grey silk landing with soft thwapping sounds.

"You don't even know the people in your own class?" Elliot asked, ducking and swatting at Cassidy. "No wonder you're failing everything."

"Ask Cabot," Olivia said, pointing at a short blonde with wiry glasses across the hall. "Just be careful, she bites."

Cassidy straightened up, poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek, and smoothed out his tie. "I like it when they bite," he replied, walking toward the girl.

"What an ass." Elliot turned again and gave Olivia a small, playful shove. "Bell's gonna ring," he reminded her, and then he kissed her cheek and opened the classroom door for her. "M'lady?" he said, bowing.

Rolling her eyes, she laughed. "Dork," she chided, and she stepped into the room and sat at the closest empty desk.

He sat in the seat behind her, flicked her hair with his pen, and leaned back with a grin. "We should finish that, tonight, too, by the way." He opened his notebook and began copying the notes from the board. "The project, I mean."

With a slight turn of her head, she said, "I knew what you meant."

"Good morning, class," the teacher greeted, slipping a pen behind his ear.

The students sang out a collective, "Good morning Father Dalton," with as much sourness as they could.

"As you know," Dalton started, "Our unit on absolute monarchs is coming to an end, culminating with your presentations on Friday." He began pacing as he spoke. "The six students, three pairs, who earn the highest grades on this project will be invited to spend the weekend at a real castle." He grinned at the cheers and whoops and hollers, but he held up a finger, silencing his students. "Myself and Miss Nicoletti will be taking these six students to Boldt Castle, upstate, next weekend. Permission slips will be given out Friday afternoon, after I have entered the final project grades into the system." He winked at his class. "Good luck," he said, clapping once.

Elliot leaned over, squeezed Olivia's shoulder again, and said, "We got this in the bag." He squeezed her shoulder and said, "You know, no one's gonna have a better…"

"Like my mom would even sign the slip," she bit back at him, disdain in her voice to hide the disappointment. "Even if she sobered up long enough to read it, she wouldn't sign it, she…" she shook her head and slumped. "Being down the street for a few days, ya know, that's one thing. She won't let me that far out of her sight." She flinched, recalling the fight she and her mother got into before she climbed up Elliot's ladder. "Out of her control," she whispered, and then she looked at him over her shoulder. "Have fun. Take pictures for me."

"Uh, I'm not going without you," he said, and he let his fingers trail down her back as he leaned against his chair. "We'll figure something out. We always do."

Olivia sighed, dropping her head against her hand, propped up on her elbow, as she started to write down the notes, trying to distract herself from the many ways her mother was ruining her life.

A knock on the door disrupted the class, and Olivia's sulking, and all twenty-three heads popped up to stare as the priestly teacher turned the knob. Gasps and murmurs filled the room as, standing in the doorway, stood two uniformed police officers and a man in a grey suit. All of them at once looked at Olivia as the teacher pointed to her.

"What the hell?" she asked, sitting up straight. She slowly rose to her feet as Father Dalton crooked a finger at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

Elliot got up, too, and walked with her to the front of the room, ignoring the growing voices now spitting accusations and hypotheses back and forth. He grabbed her hand once they made it to the door, and he whispered to her, "That's my dad's partner." They stepped out into the hall when one of the officers directed them to do so. "What's going on, Sir?" he asked before anyone else could say anything.

The man in the suit eyed him for a moment, but then looked at Olivia, trying to smile. "Are you Olivia Benson?" he checked the small notebook in his hand. "Your mother is Serena Benson?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, her body beginning to shake. She felt Elliot pull her into his arms, giving her something to lean on. "What..um, is she…" she cleared her throat. "Did something happen? Is she okay?"

The man looked at her and, again, tried to smile at her. "She's okay, but you'll need to come down to the station. You're the only family she has, you're her, uh, one phone call, and we can't release her…"

"Wait," Elliot intruded. "Release her?"

"There was an incident," the man spoke, "We kept her overnight, I thought...I thought you already…"

"She's been staying with us," Elliot said, knowing Olivia couldn't. "So she, uh, she wouldn't know." He looked at her, catching her eyes, and she nodded, thanking him for talking for her.

"Do I really need to come down there?" she asked, knotting her hands together.

The man in the suit nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid, but, um…" he looked into her eyes, his plan unravelling, falling apart, and he sighed in resignation. "But it can wait until after school. I'm sorry to have interrupted." He nodded at her politely, and then waved, and turned to walk back down the hall with the two officers flanking him.

"Smooth, Detective Cragen," one of the cops chuckled. "You really thought that we would…"

"I didn't know," the detective shrugged. "We'll get her, and we'll talk to her, and we will…"

"Cragen," the cop to his left interrupted, "I gotta ask..what is so special about this girl?"

The detective sighed as he headed out through the front doors of the high school. "I had an opportunity to get her out of trouble a long time ago, and I blew it." He blinked once. "All I have to go on is second hand information from my partner, who gets it all from his son, so I can't step in until I hear it directly from her."

"And you thought that, after arresting her mother on a drunk and disorderly, it would put her in a position to talk to you?" The older of the two cops shook his head. "Kids in her position do everything they can to hide the truth, she wouldn't have told you…"

"No, I know," he sighed. "But it was worth a shot." He and the officers got into a black towncar and drove off, and as the wheels turned, so did the gears in his head as he tried to think of another way to save Olivia before something horrible happened, because he had it on good authority it would.

Elliot would never lie to his father, and his father would never lie to his partner.

 **A/N: Oh, a step toward keeping his promise! But...what gets in the way of it? And do Elliot and Olivia get to go on the field trip? We'll find out...if you want.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: When your life is as close to tragedy as it can get, who needs Romeo and Juliet.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.**

"You okay, there, Benson?" Alex Cabot twisted her lips to the side and blew, trying to force her blonde bangs out of her eyes. She slumped forward when the wind blew them right back where they were.

"Fine," Olivia returned with a shrug. "Just fine." She pulled her navy blue, wool gloves up her wrists a bit, tugged on her gray and blue striped scarf, and shimmied a bit in her school coat, the gray leather sleeves squeaking as they rubbed against the arms of the people next to her. "Why?"

Alex huffed, giving her a stunned look. "Um, hello? The cops? The whole school is talking about how they just showed up outside your history class!" She swatted at her hair again. "That has to be a lot to handle, and instead of handling it, you're here, on these cold, sticky bleachers, watching your boyfriend throw a dead animal carcass back and forth!"

Olivia rolled her eyes, laughing. "Christ, Cabot," she spat, smacking her friend in the arm, hard. "First of all, they can keep her! I mean, I'm in no big rush to get her out of that cage, and Detective Stabler knows that, so does his partner. Second of all," she held up two gloved fingers, "He's a freshman, on the varsity team, so I am going to be at every single game, supporting him, and, uh, have you seen how tight that uniform is?" She wagged her eyebrows and bit her lip. "Nowhere else I'd rather be," she chuckled. "Trust me."

"You are technically on hallowed grounds, Benson," Alex warned, pointing a finger at her. "This is a Catholic school."

The two girls shared a laugh and shoved closer together, trying to keep warm. "Besides, uh," Olivia said, shooting a hard glare at the line of perky girls in short, plaid skirts, "I'm not leaving him alone with...them." She scrunched up her nose and curled her lips into a sneer.

"Chill, chica," Brian Cassidy, eavesdropping on the two teens, leaned over from his perch on a higher bench. He chuckled to himself when they both glared at him, looking like twin snakes. "He only has eyes for you, Benson, and I don't blame him." He licked his lips and shot one brow up into an arch. "I like looking at ya, too," he winked at her, laughing again when she rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the football game.

"Who are we playing, anyway?" Cabot asked, folding her arms. "The guys in red, who are they?"

"The Cardinals," Olivia sighed. "From Cardinal Catholic."

"Saints and Cardinals?" Cabot snorted. "Man, it doesn't get much holier than that."

Olivia shot her a look. "We play the Angels next week." She saw the dumbfounded expression on Alex's face and shook her head. "You're a trip, ya know that?"

Alex nudged her with her elbow, and as she resigned herself to paying attention to the game, her eyes widened. "I thought you said they needed you to go get her, that no one else could…"

"What the hell are you…" she stopped, choking on her words, seeing her mother heading toward the stands. She had a slight waver in her step and a scowl on her face. "How the hell…" she shot up and pulled Alex's arm upward, almost violently. "Come on!"

"What?" Alex cried, literally falling into the people behind her as she lost her balance. "Have you gone mental?" She scrambled to her feet, mumbling short apologies to the people they were now climbing over to get to the side steps.

Once there was no one else in her way, Olivia ran, leaving Alex in the dust behind her, until a large, hard body got in her way. She knew, instantly, and she wrapped her arms around him. She felt him pulling her, and she didn't look up at him as she asked, "You saw her, too, didn't you?"

"Yeah, right on the sidelines," Elliot said, dragging her away from the bleachers and toward the parking lot. "I gotta call my dad and find out how…"

"Who the hell bailed her out? Who told her where I was?" she asked, finally sending a glance up at him. "I...maybe we shouldn't have…" she took a breath, sending a long look over Elliot's shoulder, watching a very annoyed, out of breath Alex come into view. "Maybe she just wanted to, I dunno, watch the game."

"Liv," Elliot scoffed disbelievingly. "Really?"

"Right, that was…no, she wouldn't," she rolled her eyes. Scraping her teeth over her lip, she asked, "You gonna get it trouble for just running off the field like that?"

Elliot shrugged. "Probably," he said. "Don't really give a shit." He leaned over and softly brushed his nose against hers. He heard a small laugh and his heart thudded, the sound calming him and heating him up, and he moved a bit more and kissed her.

She pulled back and looked toward the bleachers again, hoping her mother got lost in the crowd. Satisfied that there was no sign of Serena, she looked back at Elliot and buried her head in his chest.

"I'm right here," he whispered, brushing his hands through her hair. "I got you. I told her, I'm not gonna let her hurt you."

"Okay," Alex panted, breaking them apart as she stepped up to them with an outstretched arm and pointing finger. "You almost pull my arm out of the socket, knock me into some junior sleazebag that thinks I was trying to give him a lapdance, then you just leave me in the wind?" She gave a hard sigh as she tugged down her jacket and crossed her arms. "Some friend!"

"I'm sorry, I panicked," Olivia wheezed, shivering in Elliot's arms, a wintry mix of fear and cold.

"Yeah," Alex hissed, "No shit." She took a deeper breath, let it out slowly, and then rested a hand on Olivia's shoulder. "You okay?"

Olivia nodded, curling her fingers tighter around Elliot's jersey. The three friends stood in the light of a streetlamp, each one looking around at the rows of cars as they silently contemplating something, and just as Elliot was going to offer a suggestion, a furious sounding voice hit their ears.

"Olivia!" Serena rasped, stumbling over to her. "Where the hell have you been?" When she got close enough, she grabbed Olivia's arm and tried to pull her away from Elliot, but he wouldn't loosen his grip. "Let her go, you little…"

"No way in hell," Elliot snapped, pulling roughly, not even flinching when Olivia hit into him hard. "How did you…"

"A friend came down to get me out of there," Serena slurred. "Not my daughter, no, of course not. Well, then she said that the cops notified you, that you blew them off, and then I find out you're here...here!" She threw a hand out and gave a wide fan of her arm. "Not with me, not home worrying, not caring that I had to spend the night in a jail cell, but at some football game!"

Olivia's heart pounded against her chest and she was sure Elliot could feel it beating against his, too. "Mom, I...I just…"

"Save it," Serena broke in, shaking her head. She took another step, stumbling, almost falling over. She gave Elliot a hard shove and grabbed Olivia. "Let's go, young lady."

"She's not going anywhere with you," Elliot domineered, refusing to let Olivia slip out of his arms. "Not when you're drunk."

"She's my daughter," Serena spoke with a sneering laugh. "She's coming home, right now." She wrapped a cold hand around Olivia's left wrist as Elliot pulled harder on her right arm. They played a short, sadistic game of tug-of-war with her before she found her own strength and pulled herself away from her mother.

"Mom!" Olivia yelled, "Stop it!" She raised a hand to block Serena's hand as it attempted to land a smack to her face. "Mom! Please!" she pleaded again, and she tripped as her mother tried once again to get her away from Elliot, the blow knocking her mother backward.

The shattering of glass made the small group gasp, and they all stared on as Serena scrambled to her feet. A fragmented vodka bottle had fallen out of her coat pocket, and it now lay on the blacktop, a puddle of liquor pooling and spreading beneath her shoes.

Elliot stepped protectively in front of Olivia and moved them just to the left of Alex. "Miss Benson," Elliot said, calmly, holding one hand up with his palm out. "It was an accident, you know that, don't you?"

Slowly, Serena lifted her head, her face ruddy and her eyes narrow and gleaming in the dim street light. "You little bitch," she crowed. Her knees bent, her hand wrapped around the neck of the broken bottle and then she rose again, tilting her head at a horrifying angle. With as much force as she could muster, she hurled herself toward Olivia, the jagged glass aimed at her face and a balled fist ready to throw punches, a horrible cry coming out of her mouth.

Olivia's eyes widened and she stiffened against Elliot, but she felt him lift her up. Hazy blurs of white, green, grey, and blue swirled before her eyes as he spun her around, and as a loud, terrified, "Oh, my God!" hit their ears, they stopped moving.

"What the…" Elliot breathed, dropping Olivia to her feet but still holding her close to him. His eyes widened when they landed on Serena's limp body, crumpled at the base of the street lamp. He heard Olivia's shocked sob and felt her fall into him again, her body shaking as she cried. "What the hell happened?" he asked, gaping at Serena, but talking to Alex.

Alex, crying herself, tried to breath as she stammered, "You moved Benson out of the way...but her mom, she...she kept running, and she...she hit the lamp post...head first...and then she...she just...fell over!"

Elliot pushed Olivia off of him gently, and he moved slowly, cautiously kneeling beside Serena. He reached a shaking hand out and pressed two fingers to the side of the woman's neck. "I got a pulse," he said, and he looked up at Olivia. "But now, I really need to call my dad." He got to his feet, running back over to Olivia, who had her face in her hands, breathing heavily. He wrapped one arm around her, pulled her close, and held out a hand. "I need to borrow your phone, Cabot."

Sniffling, she nodded, and she dug around in her pocket with a vibrating hand, finding it hard to grasp her phone as she shook. "Don't you have one? Why do you…"

"Look at me," he barked. "Where am I gonna put a cell phone in these pants, huh? I was in the middle of a fucking foot…"

"Please, don't yell," Olivia begged meekly, her voice muffled, her tears soaking into the middle of his blue and grey jersey.

He closed his eyes and nodded, kissing her forehead. "Sorry," he whispered, and he shot a grateful look toward Alex as she slapped her phone into his open palm. He dialed with one hand, the other rubbing circles on Olivia's back. He waited, and when his father answered, he felt the first tear rolling down his cheek. "Dad? No, no, the game's not over, yet, I just…" he sniffled. "Liv and I...we need your help." He swallowed hard, his eyes still focused on Serena, lying unconscious on the pavement. He just couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for her.

 **A/N: O..O ! Let me know if you want to know what happens next, and find who get to go on that History Trip?**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: "It's a hard conversation to have, but things come easy when it's through." Neil Lawson, student, age 11, his poem "Through A Broken Child."**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.**

"We can hold her on drinking on school property," Detective Joe Stabler said softly, "But unless you tell me what else happened, when she gets out of this hospital, she's going home...to you." He looked across the small table and into her hollow, brown eyes. The longer he stared, the more the truth became clear. Bruises still in their final shades of yellow and green, hidden under makeup and long hair, peeking out and trying to tell the truth. Small scars finally screaming to be noticed, the remnants of who knows how many grueling fights with her mother. He cringed slightly as he looked down as his foam cup of cold coffee.

His partner, Detective Don Cragen, cleared his throat. "We already have a statement from your friend, Alexandra." He licked his lips and leaned closer to her, the small cafe chair bowing under him. "Elliot hasn't said anything, because he doesn't want to hurt you, or make you angry with him, but we know…"

"You...you've told Elliot everything, haven't you?" Joe interrupted, trying to drive the conversation in the right direction. "Sweetheart, if you can tell Elliot, then you can tell us. We can help you, and we can help your mother. I even have a friend, a lovely woman, who can work with you to…"

"What do you want from me?" Olivia almost shouted, quivers in her voice that relayed her urge to cry. "You want me to give you all the details? Relive every single time that she...that I…" she took a hard breath and laughed bitterly, a single tear riding to freedom down the slope of her cheek. "And what happens to me, huh? You think I don't know? First, I have to admit...out loud...to everyone...who I am." She whispered, shame overshadowing anger. "What I am."

Elliot pulled her closer to him, his fourteen year old heart breaking for the girl he knew he loved.

Olivia scoffed and swiped aggressively at a second runaway tear. "Then I have to convince twelve fucking morons that I'm not lying, and because I'm a kid, they won't believe the off chance they do see right through Serena Benson's performance of Mommy Dearest, I get tossed into the foster care system, where I'll have to stay in a damn group home because no one wants a teenager!" She slammed an open palm on the table, causing the cups to shake and black coffee to spill, but she didn't seem to care. "So there goes school, right? I don't graduate, I don't go to college, I don't grow up, my life is over, she still fucking wins!"

Joe tried to speak. "None of that is…"

"And you really expect me to lose him?" she twisted her wrist and jutted her thumb at Elliot. "He's the only person in my life who gives a rat's ass about me, so if having to be my mother's punching bag once in a while is the price I have to pay just so I can have some sort of normal human contact, then fine! I'll wear kneepads next time!"

Cragen shook his head, tears burning behind his eyes and a lump in his throat keeping him from breathing. He coughed as he tried to look at her, and he said, "We can promise you, right here, right now, that you won't be tossed into the system. That's what Joe was trying to tell you, sweetheart."

Elliot saw Olivia twitch, her lips turn as she bit them, and he knew she was thinking about it. "Hear them out," he whispered to her, kissing her temple.

She gave a short, small shrug, conceding.

Joe, wiping up the last of the spilled coffee, began to explain. "Right off, anything you say to us is confidential. No one else will know anything, your friends at school won't have to find out about…" he paused, breathing hard. "Anything." He crumpled the wet, brown napkins and pushed them toward the edge of the table. "There won't need to be a trial, not in this case. We just want to remove you from a dangerous situation and get your mother the help she should've gotten…"

"Fourteen years ago?" Olivia spat.

Joe exhaled sharply through his nose. "Yes, but not because of you because of what happened," he said to her. "And maybe we can help her realize that drinking...and hurting you...is only causing more damage, it's not the answer to her problems." He reached a hand into his pocket, pulled out a small card, and slid it across the table to her. "My friend, here...her name is Simone Bryce, she'll give you options, and, honey, none of them have anything to do with leaving your school, or leaving Elliot."

Three more silent tears spilled over, highlighting the contours of her face. "Where am I gonna go?" she asked in a breathy whisper, her voice failing.

Joe looked at Don, and they both looked at her. "You'll stay...where you are." Joe glanced at his son, who sat up straight with wide eyes. "With us," he said with a nod.

"Is that…" she sniffled. "Is that okay? Is that...is that even legal?"

Don nodded, offering a small smile. "You don't have any other family in the area, and Joe and Bernie are licensed foster parents, so if you did end up in the system, they'd probably be able to take you anyway."

"And it would only be temporary," Joe added. "She'll be placed in a residential treatment program for ninety days, and...if she completes the program without incident, when she's released, you'll go home. She'll always be your mother, Olivia, and anything you say to us will be used to help her, and to help you, honey. No one wants to see her locked up, and no one wants to…"

"I just...I need to tell you…" she bit her lip and flipped the business card over in her hand. "When she's not drinking...she's a pretty great mom." She sniffled, her voice broke again, and the floodgates opened.

Elliot wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.

She dropped her head to his shoulder as she said, "But lately...she's been drinking all the time. Even during the day, and I don't remember the last time we spent together when she was sober. But, sir, you have to believe me, she's not like this when she's not drunk."

"I know that, sweetheart," Joe said, nodding at her. "That's why we're doing this. We know that this...that your mother can be helped. But you need to tell us everything."

Lifting her head up, she wiped away her tears with the sleeve of her school sweater, and she dropped one of her hands to Elliot's, squeezing. Under the table, her knees bounced, her feet tapped, and she felt Elliot's free hand rest on her thigh to calm her. She looked at him, and then at his father. "Where do I start?"

Don signaled the lady behind the counter for more coffee, knowing they were in for a nice, long talk, and Joe took a notepad and pen out of his pocket. "At the beginning."

It was well past two in the morning when Olivia and Elliot walked back into his bedroom. Serena had woken up, confused, but when Joe and Don had explained the night's events, she'd broken down. She'd apologized to Olivia over and over as she cried, sober enough to realize what she'd almost done, and regretting it. Don had told Joe to take the kids home, and he'd stayed behind.

Elliot could still hear Olivia's harsh sobs, could still feel her shaking in his arms, and as he turned on the light, he turned his head to look at her. He watched as she moved toward the duffel bag in the corner and kicked off her shoes. He held his breath as she peeled away the layers of her uniform, and he marveled at how someone so strong and beautiful could, at the same time, be so broken. He turned away, his Catholic modesty and respectful nature winning the battle against lustful curiosity. He kept his back to her as he changed out of his football uniform and pulled on a pair of dark blue NYPD sweatpants he'd stolen from his father.

"You didn't have to turn around," her soft voice told him. "If I cared about you seeing anything, I would have gone into the bathroom." She plopped onto the bed and turned onto her side, curling into as small a ball as she could.

He tugged a faded bad tee over his head and toed off his cleats, the sat on the edge of his mattress to peel off his socks. "I'm...I'm so proud of you."

"Me?" she scoffed. "What the hell did I do?"

"You…" he turned to look at her, "It took an incredible amount of strength to talk to my dad, tonight." He crawled further up and flattened out beside her. "I know how hard it was, and I know what you were feeling." He swallowed hard. "You know that I know."

She reached for his hand, and they propped up their arms on their elbows, letting their fingers weave and tangle and play. "I know," she whispered. "The whole time I was talking to him... I kept thinking how hypocritical he was, ya know?" She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip. "Every time he told me I didn't deserve her wrath, I didn't deserve the abuse...I wanted to scream at him, 'Neither does your son,asshole,' but with his partner there…"

"I know," he said, stopping her, and he dragged his fingers through hers again. "I, uh, I have to tell you something. The reason my dad was so pushy…"

"You told him," she cut in, "About last Friday." She let her eyes dart to his, and she saw fear in them. "I'm not mad at you. I'm...grateful. I think part of me knew you were telling him, trying to save me, and tonight...you did." She sat up a bit and she held his gaze intently. "You saved my life, tonight."

He rose to meet her, and his hands moved the sides of her face. "I promised you," he stated. "No one is ever going to hurt you again." He moved, bent his head, and kissed her. Slowly, he pressed and pushed, unlocking her lips. He swiped his tongue over hers gently, trying to make sure she could feel every emotion coursing through him. He let his arms fall, wrap around her, and he dropped back down to the bed. He pulled and twisted her, until she was laying on him, his hands settling on her back as they kissed, their movements slowing, their breath evening, and the steady beat of their hearts drumming them to sleep.

When his alarm went off, they awoke to find themselves in the same position, legs tangled, arms around each other, her head on his chest and his on a lopsided pillow. "Morning," he chuckled, rolling his neck to look at her. Then he stilled, he realized something, that parts of his body had woken up before he did. He refused to move, hoping she couldn't tell.

"We should have let your dad call us out," she moaned, regretfully spiraling off of him and sitting up.

He let out a relieved yawn as he slapped his alarm clock, turning it off. "You told him not to because we have the…"

"History project," she mumbled, nodding. "I know." She yawned, too, stretching as she stood up, and she grabbed the bits and pieces of her uniform off the floor and plodded into the bathroom.

With a chuckle, Elliot got himself out of bed, trudged over to his closet, and pulled a clean uniform off of a hanger. He changed fast, his fingers working nimbly to get his buttons straight. "Hey!" he called, trying to be heard over the running water and swish of her toothbrush. "You want to stop at Delgado's? Grab breakfast?" He looped his tie into a tight Windsor knot as he walked over to the bathroom door, and he smiled when he heard the water stop.

"Sure," she said through another yawn, "Why not?"

He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her again, and he smiled brightly at her. "No makeup," he said, brushing the back of his hand across her cheek.

She shrugged. "No need." She sat down and pulled a clean pair of grey knee high socks out of her bag. As he tugged them onto her feet, she said, "By the way, uh, thank you." She stood fast and shoved her feet into her Mary Janes.

"What for?" he threw his book bag over his shoulder and lifted hers by the hook loop. He held out a hand and waited, expectantly.

She turned her eyes up at him as she slipped her hand into his. "Everything," she said softly. "I just realized, I never...I never said thank you."

He laughed and shook his head. "Because you didn't have to," he said as he pulled her through his bedroom door. He led her down the stairs and when they got to the foot of them, he turned to her. "You never have to thank me for…"

His words were cut off by her lips, a much more chaste kiss than the one that put them to sleep, but it held so much more emotion. She pulled away from him and whispered, "I love you." But then laughed at herself. "Is that silly? That's silly, right?"

He smiled at her, ran a finger along the edge of her plaid headband, and then cupped her chin. "If you really feel that way, then…" he sighed as he looked at her. "It's not silly at all." He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers, not sure how either of them understood what love was, knowing they were too young, but at the same time, neither had been young in a long while. "I, uh, I love you, too," he whispered to her, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke the words.

She nodded, looking away from him for a moment, but then she said, "I can tell, you know." Her eyes met his again from behind her bangs. "When I'm with you...I feel…" she choked on the taste of the words. "That's why, when I thought I would have to leave…"

He kissed her again, and then he laughed. "We're gonna have to skip breakfast," he said, and he took her hand and led her through the doors. For the first time in while, he wasn't afraid of what the day would bring for them.

But the young man watching them walk down the street knew that he should be, grinning as he took a long drag of his cigarette. He chuckled as he blew smoke through his flattened smile, walking slowly in the same direction as Olivia and Elliot.

 **A/N: Next chapter, history class, lunch, and who's the guy?**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: A surprise that...well...surprises people?**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.**

"Where is he?" Elliot huffed, leaning back in his chair. "This thing took us a week to put together, not to mention the damn thing cost over fifty bucks. I should buy stock in Lego, I swear." He scratched the sides of his head right under the rim of his fur lined crown. "And this thing itches."

She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "At least you can breathe," she said, tugging on the corset top of her costume.

"You look hot, Benson," he quipped, winking. "Every other guy in here, and some of the girls...they're all staring at you." He eyed a young man near the front of the room, who was leering at Olivia and licking his lips. "Rather annoying, actually."

"Relax," she said, reaching over and pulling on his King's robe. She took a chance, but thought it was worth taking since the teacher wasn't in the room. She kissed him slowly, ignoring the few gasps and singular whistle that hit her ears. Smirking, she pulled away from him, and she bit her lip before saying, "I don't even notice them looking."

He smiled at her, and he opened his mouth to tell her something, but the heavy footsteps at the front of the room stopped him speaking. "Oh, great," he snipped, rolling his eyes.

The priest who had just walked in looked ghostly white, he held out a shaky hand and gave a fearful glance toward the door, where it was obvious someone was waiting to enter. "Good morning, my children."

A resounding "Good Morning Father Jason" crescendoed and ebbed in response.

The priest tugged on his collar, swallowed hard, and cleared his throat. "I have some...some unsettling news. Father Dalton...was...called away, unexpectedly, and he sends his regrets in regards to the trip he planned to take some of you on this weekend." He cleared his throat. "In light of these horrific circumstances, that trip would've been cancelled, anyway."

Elliot's face scrunched up as he caught a glimpse of the man beyond the door, and he hissed out a harsh, "Shit!"

"What?" Olivia asked, looking from Father Jason to Elliot and back again.

"The guy outside?" he said, jerking his head forward. "It's Detective Cragen."

Father Jason mumbled something under his breath, looked around the room, and said, "I am not permitted to go into specifics, but if any of you have any questions, or feel that you may need assistance...please see Sister Irene in the guidance office, or Brother Alan in the resource room." He took a staccato breath. "I have...someone here who needs to speak with a few of you, so please, mind your manners, and remember honesty is a core value here at Holy Cross." He moved to the side of the room, gesturing for the detective to come in to address the class.

"Hello," Cragen said with a forced smile and a slight nod. He brushed a hand over his thinning hair and coughed once. "My name is Detective Cragen." He held up his badge. "I know this is confusing for some of you, but I'm here to help, I promise. I have a few questions to ask a few of you. Are any of you on the lacrosse team?"

A few hands rose with slight hesitation.

"Right," Cragen said, cringing. "I will need the four of you to please...come with me." He waited at the front of the room, and once all four young men were grouped together, he led them out of the room and down the hall.

"What the hell is this about?" Olivia asked, scooting her desk closer to Elliot's.

"No idea," Elliot whispered. "But I know, uh, Father Dalton's the lacrosse coach." He eyed her for a moment, carefully, knowingly. "I don't think Cragen and my dad investigate intramural cheating scandals or spiking Gatorade with Red Bull."

"What are you saying?" She looked at him with narrow eyes, oblivious to Father Jason calling a group to present their project.

Elliot grabbed her hand, squeezed it, and said, "I think you know what I'm saying, baby."

Olivia's jaw dropped slightly as she gasped and closed her eyes, and she slumped in her chair. "I'm really glad you didn't make the lacrosse team," she said softly.

"Me, too, honey," he sighed back at her. "Me, too."

It wasn't until lunch that word got around, the members of the lacrosse team spilling their guts to whomever would listen. Olivia and Elliot changed after their history class, after presenting a project that certainly would have won them a free trip, and they dropped into what had become their seats. Brian Cassidy, Alexandra Cabot, and a few other students sat around the table, some doing homework, some sleeping.

"Man," Cassidy said, shaking his head as his two friends sat down. "You believe this shit?" He tossed a fry into his mouth, and as he chewed, he spoke. "Mason told me it was just the one kid, thank God, but still...we know the kid...and Father Dalton…" he shuddered and reached for the ketchup.

Elliot wrapped one arm around Olivia, the other hand curling around his sandwich. "One kid is one too many," he said. "No one should have to…" he stopped, swallowed, and shook his head.

Olivia rested a hand over his knee, squeezed, and dropped her head to his shoulder. "We would've been alone with him all weekend."

"And he wouldn't have touched either one of us," Elliot said, a new, dark quality to his voice. His body stiffened as he said it, his jaw clenched, and his eyes glazed over. "I promise," he turned his head and kissed the top of hers, and some spark inside of him ignited.

Cassidy watched them carefully, as Olivia lifted her head and kissed him fully, deeply, and he tugged on his tie. "You, uh, you two...you pretty serious?"

Elliot nodded once, kissing Olivia again, and then turned his head and bit into his sandwich.

"How serious?" Cassidy asked with a smirk. "You, uh, you running drills for a practical exam in Sex Ed, yet, or what?"

Elliot raised one eyebrow as he chewed, and after he swallowed he said, "None of your fucking business," and tore into his sandwich again.

"I'll take that as a 'no," Cassidy said with a mouthful. "You're, like, uber-Catholic, aren't you? Too young? Too afraid you won't be any good at it?"

"Jesus, shut up, Cass!" Olivia snapped. "Like he said, it's none of your business."

Cassidy chuckled. "Nah, you're too pure, aren't you, Benson? Not like the rest of the easy play in this hovel." He licked his lips and said, "You're gonna make him wait, and I bet it's gonna be so fucking worth it."

Olivia moved fast, cupping her hand around Elliot's fist as it flew across the table toward Cassidy's face. "Stop!" she warned, using all of his strength to push back against the punch. "Stop," she repeated, looking at him. "He's trying to piss you off, he's looking for a fight, don't give it to him." She pulled his hand back and wrapped his arm around her shoulders again. "You know he's jealous, and you know he gets like that when he's been rejected."

Elliot's nostrils flared as he exhaled, and he nodded. He kissed her forehead, thanking God she knew how to calm him down, and he chuckled lowly as he said, "So who had the good sense to turn you down?"

"Fucking redhead in Bio, man," Cassidy grumbled, slumping in his seat. "She doesn't know what she's missing."

"A trip to the infirmary and a hell of a rash," Olivia quipped, teasing her friend. "Seriously, Cass, you need to cool it. You're too young to…"

"Young and virile, Benson," Cassidy interrupted. "I haven't been using it long, but, uh, I definitely know how to use it. I've had zero complaints."

"Your hands can't complain," Olivia snickered, but she winked at him and smiled, making sure he knew she was kidding.

He smiled back at her, he couldn't help it, and he said, "Touché, Benson. Touché."

"Did…" she started to speak, poking her fork into the meatball on her plate. "Did they say...who it was?"

Cassidy shook his head. "No one's telling," he said, leaning over. He looked at both of the people across from him, and he lowered his voice. "There's a counselor here, cops all over the place, I'm sure they don't want anyone to know who he is, the guy's probably…"

"Traumatized," Olivia said, nodding fast. She let out a hard breath and stood up, saying, "The bell's gonna ring, and we have English, so we…"

"Yeah," Elliot said, taking a long, final gulp of his chocolate milk. "Can't give Brenner anymore ammo." He took, Olivia's tray, noticing she hadn't eaten much, and threw out the trash before setting them on the top of the trash bin. He draped an arm over her shoulders again, waved to Cassidy, and led Olivia out of the cafeteria.

Cassidy watched them with narrow eyes, feeling slightly guilty for what he was going to have to do, but slightly more excited. He got up, too, and threw the rest of his lunch, including the tray, into the trash can. He headed in the same direction, his eyes focused on the back of Olivia's head, and the rest of her backside. He was almost close enough to grab her, but someone pulled him back, someone he had no desire to talk to, and dragged him around the corner.

Elliot and Olivia stopped at their lockers, grabbed their books, and walked into their English class hand in hand. They were met with staring faces. They took a few more steps, and one kid in the back began clapping. It started a cacophony, thunderous applause, whistles, and cheers. "Did we…" he said, looking around, 'Are we missing something?"

Miss Brenner smiled, and then handed Olivia a framed certificate and an envelope. "I just told them, Miss Benson," she began, "That I submitted one of your poems to the New York State Young Voices writing competition, and, my dear, you've won!"

"I...what?" Olivia had gone white, oblivious to the louder applause and Elliot's whooping beside her. "Why would you...what...what poem?"

"Well," Miss Brenner sang, her smile bright and her frizzy grey-black hair flying around her thinned face, "I was hoping you'd do the honor of reading it for us." She held out a folded piece of paper and gave the girl a hopeful grin.

"Um," she reached out a hand, taking the paper, and she looked over at Elliot.

He held a great deal of pride and love in his eyes. He nodded once, giving her hand a squeeze, and he took the frame and envelope from her. "Go for it, baby," he whispered.

She gave him an unsure look, her lips pursing, and then she let the folded paper fall open. She looked at it, trying to remember when she handed it in, if she even had at all. She took a deep breath, licked her lips, and tried to stop shaking so she could read. She felt Elliot's hand in hers and she started.

"I stand on pipe cleaner legs, bending to the will of your twisting fingers. I fly on tissue-paper wings, struggling to stay airborne in a rainstorm, acid droplets burning holes, causing my plummet. I pray with porcelain hands, chipping at the tips, gold leaf tarnished knuckles. But with him…" she chokes. The emotions rise, along with the bile, and something burns both in her chest and behind her eyes. She takes another breath. "But with him, my legs are not pipe cleaners, but steel pipes, steady and strong and able to hold the weight of the world that has made my shoulders its perch. My wings are not tissue-paper, but linen. I soar higher than the eagle, I'm a peregrine falcon with a song no one has heard yet building in my lungs, my beak poised to sing it. My hands are not porcelain, but titanium, able to hold on, to climb, to pull myself up from the crumbling ledge beneath my feet, and able to reach for the only thing they long to hold. Him. You have made me think myself a dandelion in a hurricane, one blow from annihilation, but he has made me an 'olive tree' with sturdy trunk and planted roots, that even the strongest storm can not take down. And I cry Holy Water tears, their tracks left as fairy dust lines on my cheeks, but he collects them in his hands and drinks them in, as a parched desert traveler in the August sun, and suddenly my pain is gone, and he thrives on my newfound strength. With his hand in mine I can face the world, for we are twin monoliths with magnetic pull. He is my forever, my soulbound link, and I need him to keep holding me together. It's the only way I won't fall apart."

There was more applause, and light sobs coming from Miss Brenner, but it all fell on deaf ears. Olivia had gone cold, frozen, as soon as the final word left her lips. Elliot, still beside her, pulled her to him as he let their books drop to the floor. He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away the few tears falling before anyone else could see them, and he kissed her softly.

"That was...that was about me, right?" he asked in a heavy-breathed whisper. "I mean, you have to...please, tell me that was about me." He swallowed the lump in his throat as he searched her eyes beseechingly. "It has to be, because, shit, everything you said, I feel...you do the same damn thing for me." He kissed her again, still soft, still chaste, despite the need to make it something more, knowing their audience. "Baby?"

She nodded, her face still in his hands, and she laughed through freshly fallen tears. "That...that was you. Is. It's you."

He kissed her forehead, and then bent at the knees to pick up their books and her prizes. He pulled her to her desk, watching as she sat and the cheers and clapping dies down. He sat beside her, and some part of his brain heard Brenner tell them to take out their copies of Romeo and Juliet. Robotically, he flipped the book open, he didn't even look at what page he was on, his focus was on Olivia.

She tore open the envelope and pulled out the check, her eyes bulging out when she was the amount. "Um, El," she called in a whisper, holding it out to him.

He took it from her, and he laughed in surprise. "You…" he passed the check back to her. "I love you. And I am so...so proud of you."

She smiled at him, a genuine smile that almost reached her eyes, and she slipped the check back into its envelope, wondering what she was supposed to do with five hundred dollars. She took a deep breath and refocused, flipping the pages of Shakespeare to find where the boy in the coke-bottle glasses had started reading, but she couldn't seem to concentrate. There was a question swirling in her mind, behind the anxiety and tension still unsettled.

Who the hell gave Miss Brenner her poem, and how did they get it out of her journal in the first place?

 **A/N: Mystery begins! And what was up with Cassidy?**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: "They don't see the scars and wounds on my heart and soul, the hidden ones that never heal or fade, and therefore they never believe." Neil Lawson, age 11, his poem "Through A Broken Child."**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.**

"Olivia, dear," Bernie Stabler looked across the table at her son, worried, and then turned her gaze toward Olivia again. "Are you alright?"

Olivia, pushing her rice and vegetables around on her plate, nodded as her head rested on top of her hand, leaning on her elbow.

"Liv?" Elliot nudged her with his shoulder, and when he looked into her eyes, he saw a haze that had never been there before. "Eat. Please?"

She straightened up and exhaled. "I'm sorry," she whispered, jabbing a piece of carrot with her fork. As she chewed she noticed two of Elliot's sisters staring at her. She shrank down in her seat a bit, but kept eating for Elliot's sake.

Elliot narrowed his eyes, then, and looked around the table. He cleared his throat and when his mother wasn't looking, he threw a biscuit at his sister, Laura, hitting her in the head. "What is your problem?" he hissed, shooting his eyes toward his mother, who was scooping more rice onto Olivia's plate and muttering something about needing to "heal her tum tum."

Laura shrugged with an innocent expression on her face. She leaned over to her brother and whispered, "She's been here for over a week and we don't know anything more about her than we already did. I'm sorry if it looked like I was staring, maybe...maybe I was, I'm just...is she okay?"

Elliot sighed, took the biscuit back from his sister, and said, "She's fine, we just...something happened at school and it's…"

"Father Dalton was arrested," Joe Stabler's voice called from the living room, as he hung up his coat. He rolled up his sleeves on his way to his chair, next to Bernie. "I know it's upsetting, kiddo, but I promise, we are getting that young man the help he needs, and Dalton…" he sighed. "He will never hurt anyone again."

Olivia looked up at him, and her mind burned with questions. How could he be so compassionate to everyone else, yet turn his own children into victims? How could he promise to keep a child he barely knows safe and sound, when he's putting his own son in constant danger? She nodded once, scooped some rice onto her fork and into her mouth, and realized that Joe hadn't laid a hand on Elliot since she'd been staying with them.

Elliot saw the gleam in her eyes and he leaned down to her. "Better?" He smiled and brushed the knuckles of his fingers across her cheek.

She returned his smile, gave him a small, quick nod, and said, "I am, yeah." She ate a bit more, hiding the grin forming on her face as she felt Elliot's hand on her thigh. It was still, but he squeezed her, telling her he was right there with her. She discreetly dropped her left hand, rested it on top of his, and linked their fingers.

The rest of the meal was actually nice. As the kids began to clear the dishes and put away leftovers, Olivia pressed her lips together and moved toward Elliot's father. "Excuse me, Sir?"

He turned sharply with a highly arched brow. "None of that, sweetheart. Joe. Or...well, um, Dad if you…ya know, want to..." he waved a hand.

Her heart stopped for a moment, but she settled on something else. "Mister Stabler," she began, "I was just...I was wondering if you knew anything about my mother. I know they won't let her call me or…" she swallowed hard. "I just...is she okay? What are they doing to her, in that...place."

Joe gave her a sad smile and rested a large, calloused hand on her shoulder. He bent his head a bit to look into her brown eyes, and his heart broke. For the first time, he saw the pain behind them, the deeply concealed shame, and the barest glimmer of hope. "Honey, she's getting help. She's going to meetings and counseling, and she's just fine. I'm just...so sorry we couldn't do anything sooner. How much you've had to endure already, I just…"

"Thank you," she said, moving back and letting his hand slip away from her shoulder. "I just...wanted to know how she was, that's all."

"No one knows what happened, Olivia," he told her before she turned away. "I've made sure of that. No one knows anything more than they did before, nothing more than what you've told anyone." He saw her visibly relax.

She smiled before turning around and heading toward Elliot, who was washing the dishes. "Do you want me to…"

"Nope," he interrupted, turning fast and kissing her nose. "You are a guest, and guests don't help with the chores."

She rolled her eyes. "I can at least dry the…" Her eyes narrowed as she pursed her lips against the pad of his finger; he'd just shushed her.

He laughed at the expression on her face and said, "No." He brushed his finger along her lips slowly, and then kissed her forehead.

Behind them, in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen, Bernie stood beside Joe and looped her arm through his. "Look at them," she said softly. "You saved that little girl."

Joe smiled but shook his head. "No, Bern, I think...I think she saved us." He turned, kissed her softly, and said, "She made me realize how much damage…" Before he could finish, his cell phone rang, and he rolled his eyes as he fished it out of his pocket. "Stabler," he said, moving away from his wife.

Bernie watched his demeanor change as he spoke and she quickly called to Elliot. "You two darlings, time for homework and bed. Now. Up you go!" She smiled and waved them toward the stairs.

"Yeah, our homework's done, Ma," Elliot laughed. He saw his mother still waving her arms at them, and he grabbed Olivia's hand and pulled her up the steps, oblivious to his now angry father grabbing his jacket and leaving the house in a fit of near-rage. He opened his bedroom door and gave Olivia a playful shove, and he grinned. "So how is my little Poet Laureate doing?"

Rolling her eyes again, Olivia kicked off her shoes. "Hardly," she said, and then she grew quiet. "I, um, I wanted to ask you about that…" her eyes turned upward and as she pulled her headband off of her head, she asked him, "Did you give that poem to Brenner?"

"What? No!" he barked back, shaking his head. He pulled off his tie and started to unbutton his shirt. "I didn't even know you wrote another one. And you know I would never do that without asking you first." He tossed his button-down into the hamper roughly, obviously upset. "How could you even think…"

"Because it was in my journal," she interrupted, "And my journal has been here for the last week, so no one else…"

"But me?" he broke in again, sitting beside her on the bed. "I would never even pick that thing up without your permission. I know...how personal that is, and how…"

She silenced him by dropping the canvas-bound book into his lap.

He gasped softly, picking it up, and he looked at the blue cloth cover, it's doodles and drawings staring up at him, each revealing a small half-secret. "What, um...what do you want me to do with it?"

"I want you to read it," she almost whispered. "Things I can't say, not...not out loud. But things you...things I need you to know." Slowly, her head turned up, her eyes gazed into his. "About everything."

He swallowed the large lump that had formed in his throat, and he dragged one of his shaking fingers along the black ink drawings on the cover again. He inhaled, and then he opened the tome, practically feeling the heavy weight of the secrets it held. He gasped when his eyes landed on the first page. All it said was _This journal is the personal property of Olivia Benson, anyone even thinking about reading beyond this point will suffer a most painful death! Have a nice day._ It was the drawing that accompanied the warning that gave him goosebumps.

In black ink, Olivia had sketched Jesus, positioned as he is on the cross, but without the wooden beams. Each muscle was intricately shaped and spaced, the expression of reverent sorrow on his face gave Elliot chills. The detail in the hands, feet, and crown of thorns made it look like a priceless work of art. "Liv," he breathed, and he looked up at her with a smirk. "Can I keep this?" He watched her nod and then carefully ripped the page away from the binding. He moved it to the side, a promise writing itself in the back of his mind, and he looked back down at the book.

With a nervous cough, Olivia got off of the bed. She wanted him to read it, but she couldn't watch him do it without having a nervous breakdown. She pulled off bits of her uniform as she headed into his bathroom, and she turned the water on as hot as she could stand it. As she lathered and scrubbed, she wondered what page he was on, what horrible memory he was delving into, or what embarassing dream he was reading.

She had just about finished washing her hair when the reality of it all hit her. Her mother, gone. Her life in Elliot's hands, her future up in the air, all depending on what Serena Benson did in the next eighty seven days. A soft knock on the door made her jump out of her thoughts. "Yeah?" she called, hoping it didn't sound too much like she was crying.

"Is it okay if…" he paused, holding his breath a moment. "Can I come in? I won't...I won't look, I promise, I just…"

"It's your bathroom," she yelled, finding his sincere, polite concern for her modesty endearing. She wiped her eyes again, and turned off the water. "Just...hand me my robe, before you do anything else, huh?"

He took a deep breath and pushed into the bathroom, coughing as hot steam filled his lungs. "Jesus," he chuckled. "You like it hot, huh, Benson?" He took her robe off of the hook behind the door, and although part of him wanted to peek behind the curtain, he turned his head and shoved the fluffy cotton through the side. He felt her take it and he closed his eyes tightly, staving off any impure thoughts.

She pulled the curtain to the side once she was bundled up in her purple cotton, and she laughed at him. "You can look, now, I'm all covered up." She took the hand he held out to her and stepped out of the tub, and then kissed him softly. "You really are something special, Stabler."

"Why didn't you tell me any of that?" he asked in a soft voice. He brushed her wet hair backward, and then cupped the side of her face. "I almost...I could've lost you before I even...had you."

She shook her head and her eyes widened a bit. "Don't cry, please, please don't. I didn't give that to you to make you…"

"Everything she did to you," he breathed, "And I'm not even halfway done." He curled his other hand around her back, pulling her close, and he kissed her gently. "I already promised you...I'm never letting anyone hurt you. And I...God, I am never going to hurt you. Ever. You have permission to kill me if I…"

Her lips stopped his words, her wet hair dripped slowly down her cheeks, blending with tears, landing on his white tee shirt. She pushed him back and whispered, "I know."

He held her close to him as he pulled her out of the bathroom. He kissed her hard and prodded her down onto the mattress, and he moaned her name against her lips once before pulling away from her. He wrapped a hand around her neck and pressed his forehead to hers. "This isn't normal...is it? For us to feel...what we feel?"

"Even if it's not," she breathed, "We can't really stop it, can we?"

He laughed and shook his head, his nose brushing against hers, and he whispered, "And I wouldn't want to try."

"Me either," she softly spoke back to him, and she kissed him again, once, before gently pushing him up. "I have to dry my hair before I waterlog your pillows."

He laughed and nodded, letting her up. He grabbed her journal and started to read another entry while she got up and headed back into the bathroom.

With every turned page, a new crack formed in his heart. Her poems and fictionalized versions of unfortunately true stories made him more determined to protect, defend, and love her as long as she would let him. Her drawings chipped away at him, softening him and telling him that she had so much talent that her mother never nurtured, making him vow to do it instead. He turned the page and as he read, his heart burned, so did a few other body parts. This entry, about him, gave him chills and a swollen ego, and he only hoped, eventually, he could live up to the image of him she had in her mind. He licked his lips and looked over his shoulder, toward the bathroom, and smiled. "Hey! Benson!"

The dryer turned off, she walked into his bedroom with arched brows, her hair falling to her shoulders in soft waves. "What?"

He held up the book, one eyebrow curved as a smirk curled his lips. "I love you, too," he told her, biting his lip. "And, uh, would you hit me if I told you...I think I had the same exact dream?"

She pressed her lips together and almost blushed, but said, "Yeah, I thought you'd get a kick out of that one." She knelt down to pull a pair of pajamas out of her duffel bag, and tilted her head as she pulled them on and took off her robe. "Hey. You don't think one of your sisters found that poem and…"

"No, um," he held out a large sticky note. "It was Cassidy. He left this in the book."

She grabbed the note from him and read it, prepared to be angry, but she smiled.

 _Benson- Found a poem of yours when I went looking for paper. Was gonna give some hot chick in your English class my digits. I gave it to your teacher. It was too good not to. Forgive me? -Cassidy_

"He can be nice when he wants to be," Elliot said, seeing her smile. "But there's something about him I…"

A loud crash from downstairs interrupted him, and they both bolted, running down the steps, hearts racing and hands clasped together.

"Mom!" Elliot yelled, running to help her pick up pieces of the shattered lamp. "What happened?"

Bernie shook her head, her trembling hands picking up bits of pink ceramic and dropping them into a plastic mixing bowl. "Nothing, nothing, I…"

"Don't lie to the kid, Bern," Joe spat from behind her. He had a can of cold beer in his hand, but he wasn't drunk, at all. "El, she, uh…" he put the can down on the counter and waved his son over to him. "She thought the living room needed more light, so she tried to make the lamp into a chandelier. It crashed as soon as she let go of it."

Elliot furrowed his brow and scratched the back of his neck. "How did...where did she even get the idea to do that?"

"Listen, kid," Joe said, clearing his throat. "Son, your mom...she does things…" he breathed. "You remember the time she took you out in that blizzard, told you she wanted to chase the snowflakes?"

Elliot squinted. "Uh...the year I…" His eyes widened. "I remember, we got into an accident. Wait, that's how I broke my arm! Growing up, I always thought…"

"It was easier if you thought I did it," Joe whispered. "Ya know, back then, I'd rather have had you think of me as a drunk than think of your mom as…"

"Crazy," Elliot finished in a soft, shocked whisper. "What's really wrong with her?"

Joe took a deep breath. "That's what we're going to find out, kid. I'm taking her to this doctor in Jersey, tomorrow." He looked his son in the eyes. "Listen, I know I did my share of hurting you. I'm so...so sorry. I'm going to try...very hard...to...to not do that anymore." He shot his eyes toward Olivia, who was trying to fit the pieces of the lamp together like a puzzle. "Especially while she's here. I know what she had to live through, and if I ever made you feel the way…" he gasped, stunned, as Elliot threw his arms around him. He closed his eyes and hugged his son, and promised to be a better father to him.

Elliot pulled away, clearing his throat and pushing away emotions. "Why, uh...why'd you leave before, um, after dinner."

"Work," Joe said, his mood shifting again, and he reached for his beer. "You finish your homework?"

Elliot nodded. "We were done before we ate."

"Bed then," Joe spat. "It's late."

Confused, Elliot nodded. He walked over to Olivia and said, "Leave it, Liv. My dad...he's probably just gonna throw it out." He eyed his father who looked pissed off again, and he shook his head. "Night, Mom."

"Good night, dear," Bernie said brightly.

Elliot held Olivia's hand as they climbed the stairs, and he tried to forget the bomb his father had dropped. He exhaled harshly, knowing he wouldn't sleep anyway, until he was finished reading Olivia's journal.

 **A/N: what else is in the journal? What does Bernie's doctor say? And what has Joe so angry?**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: A moment of truth with the Stablers.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.**

"So," Joe sighed, looking at each of his children as they sat on the sofa and tried to process what he had just told them. "That's where we're at, right now. She's staying overnight for some more tests, more observation, and she's been given some...these, uh, these pills that should...help."

Ryan, one of Elliot's two older brothers, shook his head. "I don't get it." He bit his lip and took a deep breath. "All those crazy stunts, her antics, it's because she's sick?"

Elliot looked at his brother, suddenly years of buried memories worked their way up the pathways of his mind. "I mean," he started, "It makes sense." He looked away and moved his right hand over to Olivia's lap, grabbing her wrist.

She twisted and curled her fingers around his, squeezing reassuringly.

"I remember," his sister Christine, began with a small sob, "I was in second grade, and I was picked to lead the class in the pledge and prayer for Friday assembly, and mom...she made me wear this...ball gown, made me take all kinds of pictures with the principal, the priest, and the flag, like I'd won an academy award or something." She laughed through her tears. "She was so proud, and I was so...embarrassed."

Laura nodded. "I remember that," she said. "She got all of us to stand together, with you in the middle." She folded her arms. "You guys remember the time she tried to create a new holiday, because she thought Christmas had been taken over by capitalist organizations?"

Ryan laughed. "National Colder Day," he said clapping once. "She wanted a word that used all of our initials, yeah, and she pulled one of the rose bushes from the garden into the house and hung dad's ties on it."

"She stacked a bunch of waffles together and covered them in chocolate frosting, topped them with a big red candle," Christine chuckled.

Elliot spoke, but his voice and tone were sad. "She gave us each a five-dollar gift card to the candy shop and made up some ridiculous song about Grandma, Grandpa, and Saint Peter." He was drawing patterns in the palm of Olivia's hand with a finger, sniffling.

Joe smiled, watching them, but added to the story. "She said that...it was better than Christmas because everything came from the heart." He wiped his eyes. "She...she was absolutely right. I wish I'd seen it, back then."

"I remember," Elliot's voice broke into the brief silence. He still gazed down at Olivia's hand, drawing more intricate swirls, almost in a trance. "I didn't, for a while, but, uh, I do now. I was only three. Mom was driving me home from...we got ice cream, that little place on Broadway with the big donut on top, and it started snowing. It got bad, fast, and all the other cars pulled into lots or side-roads, but we...we kept driving." He sniffled again. "Before I knew it, we were the only car on the road, and we couldn't see anything but...white." He paused, swallowed. "She told me we were riding in some kind of magical sleigh, and she stepped on the gas, we were going way too fast. I was yelling, begging her to stop, but she said…" he sobbed once. "She told me we couldn't slow down because we had to chase the snowflakes, and she started swerving, trying to catch them on the windshield, and she skidded out, crashed into a street light. The car was...just...totaled, gone, and I broke my arm."

Joe wiped away a few tears, moving toward his son. "Elliot, I am so…"

"What about the night, uh, the night you trashed my history project?" Elliot questioned, looking up at his father. "After you…" he turned away from him, wincing as the pain from his father's belt was felt all over again. "I heard you guys fighting, and she was so...so mad at you for hitting me. You lunged at her, she took your gun off of the table, and you…"

Joe held up a hand. "I'm sorry," he breathed, "For all of it. I never meant…"

"And instead of realizing you deserved to get shot in the foot, you tried to have her institutionalized!" Elliot yelled, cutting his dad off and making Olivia jump. "Why me? Huh?" He gave a bitter laugh. "You are always so damn proud of everything Ryan does! Laur, and Chrissy, they can do no wrong! Owen is your star athlete and Danny's your little buddy, right?" He didn't realize he was yelling and crying, but he didn't seem to care, he simply clenched Olivia's hand harder as he spoke. "But me, Dad, you don't approve of anything I do! No matter how hard I try, you just…" He stopped, noticing his brother and sisters had gone silent, staring at him. He saw the ashamed and mildly proud look on his father's face, and he rubbed his forehead with his free hand. "Well, no, you...you approve one choice I made," he said, holding up his and Olivia's knotted hands. "I think you were proud of me when...that thing with…"

"Son, I am...always proud of you." Joe squeezed into the small seat space between Elliot and Laura. He rested one of his large hands on Elliot's shoulder. "I don't know why you bear the brunt of things, I can't and won't make excuses," he told him. "Maybe I knew how strong you were, that you could take it, and come out okay." He shook his head. "But I swear to you, I am not...ever...going to…"

"Oh, please," Elliot spat harshly. "You can't control yourself any more than Liv's mom can!" He gnashed his teeth down onto the inside of his cheek.

Joe took a trembling breath. "I'm going to meetings," he confessed. "And I...I need to thank you, Olivia." He turned his gaze toward the girl beside his son, who had been still and silent through the family meeting. "Having you here, having to...listen...to your stories, the truth, after thinking for so long that Elliot was exaggerating…" he shook his head. "You made it so clear to me, the destruction I was responsible for, my family, my children, and my...my God, if you hadn't come into this house when you did, I don't know...I don't know where we would be right now."

Elliot said nothing, but turned his head and kissed Olivia's cheek, and then her lips, and he whispered, "I love you."

She sniffled, holding in tears of her own, and nodded as he kissed her again. "I love you, too," she said, almost too quiet for him to hear.

Elliot turned again, clearing his throat, and sat up a bit straighter. "While we're airing out all the laundry here, I need to ask...where did you go yesterday, after dinner? You were pretty pissed off, and, uh, I know you think no one noticed, but...I did."

Joe let out a soft growl. "Well, I might as well tell you," he sighed, and he looked at each of the children in the room. "Owen almost got himself kicked out of school. I had to drive upstate and clear things up with the registrar, pay for an extra class, and, uh, pay a fine or two." He snapped his head toward Elliot. "If I wasn't trying like Hell to change, I would have been a lot worse than I was, right?"

Elliot nodded slightly, still having misgivings about his father's new outlook on his life and his family. "We're gonna head upstairs. It's a school night." He rose to his feet and pulled Olivia to hers. "I'll check in on Danny." He didn't wait for a response, and he didn't bother saying goodnight to anyone, he simply led Olivia up the steps toward his room.

Olivia moved with him, keeping her hand in his, and she smiled when she watched Elliot open his little brother's bedroom door, tip-toeing into it. She stayed silent, too, and her heart melted when Elliot bent over and kissed Danny on the cheek.

"I promised him," he whispered to her without looking at her. "I wouldn't ever let my dad hurt him." He watched Danny breathe in and out, his little stomach rising and falling, soft nasal noises filling the room. "So many things he did...that I took the blame and the beating for, because…" he turned to her. "My dad was right. I could handle it. I could take it, and be fine, but DJ, he...he's small, and he's weak, and if my father had ever hit him as hard as he hit me, he would've broken something. Or worse."

SHe leaned her head to the side, looking at him with adoration in her eyes, and she brushed the hand not holding his through his hair and down the side of his face.

He turned fast, kissing her palm and nuzzling into her touch. "My dad's not the only one who's thankful for you," he said, his red eyes finding hers in the small, dark bedroom.

Olivia smiled, moved closer, and kissed him again.

"Eww," a small laugh erupted.

Elliot chuckled and turned around. "Go back to sleep, kid," he said. "If you need me…"

"I know where you are," little Danny whispered. "Oh!" he cried, stopping his big brother from leaving the room. "I'm out of the monster spray!"

"I'll get you more, tomorrow," Elliot said. "Go to sleep!" He laughed again, watching Danny's head fall back against his pillow.

When they were out in the hall, Olivia raised an eyebrow and asked, "Monster spray?"

In a soft whisper, Elliot said, "It's just water. He, uh, he had nightmares for a while. Kept telling me there were monsters in his room, so I made a label in the computer lab at school, stuck it onto an old bottle of Windex, filled it with water. For the first couple nights, I sprayed it all over his entire room, pretending I was some kind of ninja," he chuckled. "Now, he does it by himself, he sprays it around his bed and in the closet every night." He sighed, smiling. "He hasn't had nightmares since."

"When the hell did you grow up?" a low voice spoke from the shadows near the stairs.

Olivia and Elliot turned around to see Joe standing just outside Danny's bedroom. He had heard everything.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Joe asked, his voice sounding hoarse, desperate. "How much shit did I punish you for that…"

"It's not important," Elliot interrupted. "As far as you're concerned, it was all me." He nodded once, and then turned, heading toward his room, but felt himself being pulled backward, his hand slipped out of Olivia's and he was tugged roughly into his father's arms. He didn't know what to do; it was the most physical contact, other than abuse, his father had ever shown him. He stared at Olivia with uncertainty in his eyes as one arm slowly rose and rested on his dad's back, half-returning his hug and half preparing to run away.

"You…" Joe uttered, pulling back from his son. "The whole time, you were the one I should've been the most proud of, huh, kid?" He took a deep breath and smiled sadly. "How did this…"

"Me," Elliot shrugged, giving in to an answer. "I did this. With books, and Liv. We...well, I guess we raised each other." He scratched the back of his head and decided now would be as good a time as any to lay all of his cards on the table. "Liv's been climbing through my bedroom window for years," he confessed. "We'd read, or talk, or watch movies. Sometimes we, uh, wrote our own. Filmed them on that little tape recorder Owen gave me. We thought that...if we pretended everything was okay, then it would be," his voice dropped along with his eyes.

"Your bedroom?" Joe queried, one brow quirking high.

"Chill, Dad," Elliot calmed, laughing with a hefty roll of his eyes. "We aren't...we're not, um...we never do anything...I mean, like, we kiss but…" he shook his head fast. "We're just kids!"

Joe sighed, nodding back at him. "I deal with kids at work who've…" he brushed it away. "You're good kids. Despite everything, you're both amazing kids." His smile widened. "I really am proud of you." He cleared his throat. "You were, uh, wrong before. Owen's not my football star, kid. You are." He gave Elliot's shoulder another squeeze. "I love you," he spoke fast, too quickly to make it matter, but just saying it meant the world.

Elliot gulped, nodding fast, and said, "Yeah, uh, me, too, Dad. I mean, I...I love you, too." He pressed his lips together and finally turned away, regaining possession of Olivia's hand and leading her into his bedroom.

Once the door had shut behind them, Olivia let out an audible sigh. "I, uh, that...wow, that was heavy," she breathed, dropping onto the mattress of his bed. She kicked off her sneakers and pulled off her socks. "Are you...are you okay?"

He nodded, sitting next to her, and as he toed off his shoes, he rubbed bothe hands down his face and let out a frustrated, grieving growl. "God, everything…" he slapped his hands down to his thighs. "Everything I ever wanted him to say to me, he just...says it all at once, after I explode at him, and...shit, I practically told the rest of my family I hate them, down there."

"No, you didn't," she soothed, running a hand up and down his back. "You were upset, and a lot of things were bubbling to the surface that...that should have been dealt with a long time ago." She rubbed a little harder, trying not to think of his moans as sexual. "I didn't know your mom invented a holiday."

Elliot scoffed. "We only celebrated it once," he told her. 'My dad, he, uh...he thought it was blasphemous. Made us all go to Confession the next day and apologize for taking the day of the Lord for granted." He shrugged and bent over, peeling off his socks, and he felt Olivia's hand working out a huge knot in his lower back. "Christ, that feels...so good." He leaned over, dropping his body into hers. He threw his socks onto the carpeted floor and turned his head, capturing her lips in a kiss.

She still worked out his tension, the other hand moving up to run through his hair as they kissed. She felt him press against her, flattening her down onto the bed, his hands a respectable distance from her body as they palmed out on either side of her. She moaned softly as he kissed her deeper, his hips rocking against her of their own volition.

"Thank God for you," he panted in a breathless moment between kisses. "You were there. If this was going to happen, I...I wanted you there, and it did, and you were, and I…"

"Shh," she consoled, her hands flying fast to cup his face, wipe away his tears. She kissed him again, moved with him, quieted his cries and tried to replace all the pain of the night with as much love as she had in her.

Just beyond the walls, on the green grass grounds of the yard beneath Elliot's window, Brian Cassidy stood, contemplating his next move. He had to warn them, or at least tell them what he knew, before anything could happen to either one of them. He reached out a hand, exhaling hard, and grabbed one rung of the ladder, and he looked up as he climbed, hoping what he had to say wouldn't cost him his two best friends.

 **A/N: Uh-Oh! And another tragedy strikes! But how much more can they take? After all, they're merely freshmen.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: In the middle of tragedy, love can bloom.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.**

The morning had been hell. Elliot and Olivia had been looking over their shoulders all day, ever since Brian Cassidy intruded on what would have been an intimate moment. In a way, they were thankful for the interruption, it had kept them from taking things way too far, but now they were both paranoid.

Brian had told them someone was following them, and that man had been at school all day, watching them. He'd even grabbed Brian, trying to convince him, use him to distract Olivia and Elliot long enough. For what? He didn't ask. He'd kicked the guy in the nuts and ran like hell, finding the nearest teacher, but it was too late, the bastard was gone.

It had kept them up all night, made them both physically sick, and now they were sitting in morning assembly, the priest was saying something they knew they should be paying attention to, but with clasped hands and pounding hearts, they only focused on each other and the auditorium, watching for any trace of an unfamiliar face.

"We need to relax," Olivia breathed. "I feel like I could have a heart attack any minute."

"Me, too," Elliot whispered back to her, pressing his lips to her forehead. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. "Maybe he's just fucking with us," he said to her, "Ya know. Cassidy."

"He looked really scared," she defended. "I don't think he'd have climbed up your ladder unless…"

"Right," he interrupted her. "Right. Just...we should…" he jerked his head toward the front of the auditorium, resolving to calm down and focus.

The priest was droning on about mid-term exams and the football game coming up, how proud he was to have his school in the championship, and then he mentioned something about a few police officers being at the school for a while, some new safety measures were being implemented and the police were there to help.

Elliot's eyes narrowed, then, as he caught sight of one of the cops, in a suit, near the back doors. "Dad," he spat. "Safety, my ass." He got up, practically pulling Olivia with him, and he ignored the groans, curses, and disapproving complaints as they climbed over people and pushed past seats. He pulled her faster as he ran toward his father, his eyes dark and serious. "Father," he spat derisively.

Joe held up a hand and closed his eyes. "No," he said. "Go back and sit down, this has…"

"Brian told us," Elliot shot, not letting his father speak. When he saw his dad's eyes widen, he knew. "So it's true? Someone's after her?"

Joe Stabler cleared his throat. "There's a concern, that maybe…" he pulled the two teens to the side, lowered his voice, and said, "Her mother had a visitor."

Olivia frowned. "But no one...I mean, they won't even let me go…"

"That's the problem," Joe interrupted. "He signed in, but the moment they brought her down to see him...she had some sort of...episode. She screamed, cried…" he looked at the girl, and then at his son, and his resolve to stay professional faded. "Shit, it was her father."

"My...my father?" she shook her head. "I don't...I don't have a...I mean, he doesn't even know about me."

"We think he does," Joe said with a nod. "But he's not gonna hurt you, kid. My guys, we got this, okay?" The bell rang and students began filing out of the auditorium. "Stay calm, go to class, Elliot's right there with you, and you know he...he won't let anyone hurt you."

Elliot nodded at his father, telling him how right he was, and then pulled Olivia with him. They didn't head to class, though, he shoved her into the nearest locker room. "Hey, hey," he said, knowing she was starting to panic. "Look at me." He cupped her face and looked into her eyes. "Breathe."

She nodded, her head in his hands, her eyes glued to his as she tried to take deep breaths and push away the years of unanswered questions building up into a horrible anxiety attack. She clutched his wrists as his palms cupped her face, her eyes closed, and she inhaled deeply. "My father," she whispered. "What the hell could he possibly…"

"Don't," Elliot shook his head. "My dad was right. I'm not letting anyone near you, okay? Especially that...fucking…"

She kissed him. She didn't mean to make it as deep, or as sinful, as it was; her hands moving to his back and pawing at the navy blue blazer as if her life depended on it. She rocked into him and let out a soft moan when she felt her back hit the recessed brick wall.

His hands roamed, as delicately as they could, up her sides and down her back, caressing her thighs. Between kisses, he whispered his promise, over and over. "Never, Liv," he panted. "No one's gonna hurt you."

She whimpered, not sure if it was because she finally believed him or because his hand and moved and was slowly finding its way under her plaid skirt, and she didn't really want to stop him. Sense crept back in just before his fingers grazed forbidden flesh. "We're gonna be late," she breathed, pushing him back a bit.

He nodded, breathing heavily, keeping her close to him.

She closed her eyes as he cupped her face again and kissed her slowly. She smiled, feeling her heart slow, and pulled his hands away from her head, holding them as she walked.

He followed her willingly, looking over his shoulder as they traveled down the hall. They stopped twice, once at his locker and once at hers, and made it to their English class just before the bell rang. He ushered her into the first empty seat and growled threateningly at the person next to her until they yelped and got out of the desk. He sat, proudly, and winked when she gave him a disapproving glare.

"Today," Brenner began, "You will be writing sonnets, a la The Bard, William Shakespeare." She looked around at the suddenly ill looking students. "Now, now, it should be fun!" she promised. "Who can tell me what a sonnet is?" She looked down, grinning. "Miss Benson?"

Olivia looked up, her eyes huge. She didn't raise her hand. She didn't want to have anything to do with this assignment. "Um," she cleared her throat. "A fourteen line poem, with a standard rhyme pattern. Each line has ten syllables, the last two lines are a couplet."

"Very good, Miss Benson," Brenner chirped, clapping. She brushed her frizzy hair back and swiveled around, her Bohemian skirt spinning with her, and she said, "Any topic you wish, as long as it follows the rules, and don't try to use any of the Shakespearean ones, I will know, clearly." She clapped twice, the class's signal to get to work.

Elliot made a nasty face at his notebook, biting on the end of his pen, wondering what words rhyme with _Olivia,_ that wouldn't make his poem about foreign countries. He turned to her, and his eyes narrowed. She was writing, fast, a lot, engrossed in what was pouring out of her pen. He sat up a little straighter, leaning over, trying to read over her shoulder, and he gasped when he read a few of the lines.

She turned at the sound of his breath, her face frozen in something between fear and embarrassment. "Uh...what?"

"Can I…" he asked, his face sincere, his hand pointing to her notebook.

Her cheek was bitten between her teeth in contemplation, her eyes searching his. "It's...it's not done yet…" she gave her notebook a nudge, not stopping him when he leaned over and grabbed it.

He scanned the page, his heart thumping in staccato rhythm against his chest as the words registered.

 _Waiting an eternity for you, it seems._

 _Readiness not measured by heart, but age._

 _Consciences plagued by love's restricted dreams,_

 _Turning hope's innocence to fruitless rage._

 _Tis in thine eyes, truth belays doubts and fears,_

 _Faith and devotion are not now misplaced._

 _Our numbered months, much less than soul-lived years,_

 _Forbid decisions which make souls unchaste._

 _Shall we, then, abide by another's time?_

 _Forsaking our desirous clock's own hands?_

 _Or is it mere illusion, bell and chime?_

"Wow," he expelled, the word nothing more than a breath. "Um, Liv, I...is this…" he moved in his chair, trying to shake away his interpretation of the unfinished verse, his heart and body reacting too strongly at what the meaning could be. "Does this mean…"

"It doesn't mean anything," she said too quickly. "It's a sonnet, it's...nothing." She scraped her tongue over her bottom lip. "Maybe it does."

He smiled at her, shaking his head in amazement. "You...are incredible," he whispered, handing the notebook back to her, eager to read it when she added the last three lines, wondering how the poetic story she weaved for herself would play out. He stared down at his own blank paper, one word written, the only thing that made sense to him, and he set off to write his response to hers. His answer to her questions.

The ferocity with which he tore the poem out of its spiral binding scared him, and he chuckled as he tapped Olivia on the shoulder. When she looked over at him, he melted. God, she was beautiful. "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours," he teased, waving the paper at her.

Rolling her eyes, she smirked and handed him her notebook, the last three lines inked in, and took the single page from him. She expected something that screamed _boy,_ something about football, dirt, or the heavy conversation he'd had with his family last night. But what she held in her hands was surprising, in so many ways. "Elliot," she gasped, reading.

 _I would wait a thousand years for you, dove._

 _Age be damned, my heart knows itself, forsooth._

 _Place no restrictions on dreams, or on love._

 _Innocence is beholden in heart's truth._

 _No doubts, no fears, only strength in thine eyes,_

 _Faith and devotion lie twixt me and you._

 _Our souls bound by eternal-tethered ties,_

 _Nothing unchaste as long as love is true._

 _Time belongs to no one else, but to us._

 _Who's to say when time is right, for our hands?_

 _Our minds and souls and hearts, they do discuss,_

 _And the world around us fully understands._

 _I promise, I swear my love and life to thee,_

 _Your body, heart, and soul are safe with me._

She wasn't aware she was crying until Brenner clapped her hands again, getting the class's attention, and she wiped her eyes, as she sat up straight, trying to calm her overactive emotions. She handed Elliot's paper to Brenner as he tore hers out of her notebook and turned it in, and their eyes met along with a mutual decision to follow their hearts, and place unwavering trust in each other.

They had already vowed to do so, to themselves, but not the promise was acknowledged, to and by each other, and it held so much more weight now.

She smiled at him and as Brenner told them to open their copies of Romeo and Juliet to Act Two, she laughed to herself.

"What's so funny, Benson?" he asked, grinning at her.

Shaking her head, she said, "Nothing. I just...I love you."

"I love you, too," he replied, flipping the pages of his play. He licked his lips, remembering what had almost happened in the locker room, what he had almost done, felt. Blinking, he understood that it was possessiveness, desire driven by fear and a love that he knew was too intense for someone his age but uncontrollable, unstoppable.

"Elliot," her voice snapped, and she eyed him with dread when his head popped up. She jutted her chin toward the front of the room and there, talking with their English teacher, was Joe Stabler.

Whatever he said had made Brenner go ghostly white, her bottom lip tremble, and she ran out of the room faster than anyone imagined she could move. Joe turned, meeting Elliot's worried eyes, and he crooked a finger.

Elliot looked at Olivia, and as their classmates murmured and chattered about what they thought had happened, the two of them were about to get the truth.

And it would change everything.

 **A/N: What happened? What's going on at that school? And...hey...where's Alex?**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: "There is no point in dwelling, for the next moment is not promised." Alex David, age 12, his poem "Forget Regret."**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.**

"Can I..can I sit here?" Alex Cabot looked at Olivia sheepishly, peering over her glasses. She bit her lip, the tray in her hands wobbling as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Olivia looked up at her. "Of course," she said, unsure of why Alex would need to ask. She moved over, further into Elliot.

"I, um," Alex started, sitting down and dropping her tray to the table. "I wasn't sure if you were still mad at me." She looked downcast, picking at the peel of her apple.

"What?" Olivia squinted as she spoke. "Mad at you? For what?"

Alex sighed, biting her lip. "You know," she mumbled. "For telling those cops...everything I knew, and saw, and I'm the reason she was sent away." She turned her eyes up slightly, her cheek dimpling as the inside of it snagged between her teeth.

"Al," Olivia sympathized, resting a hand on her friend's shoulder, "I don't blame you. I'm not...and was not...mad at you. You had to tell them what happened. Besides, I...I'm pretty sure I'm the reason she was sent to rehab. What I told them...would've made your head spin." SHe gave Alex's shoulder a squeeze. "I missed you," she whispered. "I thought that, after this thing with my mom, that you had enough of my drama."

Alex shook her head fast and threw her arms around Olivia, trying not to cry. "No, of course not," she said. "Friends for life, remember? We have to be Maid of Honor in each other's weddings, and I have to prosecute the punk asses you arrest. We planned…"

"Yeah," Olivia laughed, pulling herself out of the hug. "I know."

Alex looked over Olivia's shoulder, catching Elliot's amused grin. "I guess, uh, if things go the way they...look to be going...you'll be the guy I'm standing there watching her marry."

"Can we worry about passing the ninth grade before you get us married?" he laughed, but then he smirked. "We can start planning after finals, and don't think I'm letting you pick pink as one of the colors. It washes me out."

Alex stared blankly at him.

Olivia, though, burst out into a hysterical fit. "He's kidding," she said, pointing at Alex. "You...you should see the look on your face."

Alex shook her head, her eyes still serious and glued to Elliot. "I...I don't think he was kidding," she mumbled. She was about to say something else, when a large hand covered her eyes and she yelped, sending her pointy elbow flying backward into the body behind her.

Brian Cassidy let out a pained grunt, keeling over and rubbing his hands against his stomach. "Damn, Cabot," he groaned, his head dropping to the table.

"Sorry!" Alex intoned, rolling her eyes. "You know you can't do that to me!"

"Well, yeah, man! I do now!" he griped, sitting up with a scowl on his face. "Anyway, I was just gonna...it's nice to have you back, Cabot. Or...it was...until you assaulted me."

There were a few laughs as Alex apologized again, and then started eating her lunch. Just before she could bite into her apple, the fire alarm went off. "Of course," she grumbled, biting into her fruit as she stood up. "I'm taking it with me, damn it,"

Olivia and Elliot laughed as they got off the bench, heading out the side doors of the cafeteria with the rest of the evacuating students. They took a few steps before Olivia stopped, looking around, confused. "Wait," she said, narrowing her eyes, "Something's wrong…" she grabbed his arm and pulled him backward, keeping him from going further out into the yard.

"What?" he asked, moving closer to her, his arms wrapping protectively around her. "What do you mean?"

"We're the only people out here," she said, looking around. "There are other classrooms, other people that should be heading out into the back field. They're not."

"The alarm only went off in the cafeteria," Elliot understood. He looked around, sliding his hands down her arms, grabbing her hands. "Come on." he said to her, pulling her into the cafeteria again. He walked her backward toward the metal door leading to the stairs. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and quickly dialed his dad's cell number. "Hey, uh, where are you? Okay, did you hear the fire alarm go off? Yeah, that's what we thought. It went off in the caf. Okay, yeah, you should send someone...everyone walked out onto the field, but we turned around, we think...oh, shit, well, you know our instincts are usually...uh, the stairs. We're gonna be coming out into the main hall in a minute. By the office..."

Olivia pushed the door open and they walked out into the hallway, meeting Elliot's father. "El, hang up," she whispered, squeezing his hand tighter.

Elliot ended the call and looked at his dad, worried. "Were we right? Or did we panic for nothing? Someone in the caf burnt toast or something, that it?"

The look on Joe's face told the teens that there was, in fact, something to be afraid of, and he pulled his son and Olivia into his arms, hugging hard. "You two are so damn smart," he whispered, his eyes closed. "You were right. Thank God you weren't out there."

Elliot, still uncomfortable with affection where his father was concerned, pushed him away. "What happened?"

"He, uh, he was out in the field," Joe nodded. "Sitting in the riding mower. He was planning on...driving around the crowd in the commotion and picking up Olivia. But when he didn't see you guys with everyone else, he...walked into the building, through the front, right into Don. Um, Detective Cragen."

Olivia paled, her body started to quake without her permission, and she felt Elliot's strong arms pull her into him to stabilize her. "What...so, you...you have him? He's here?"

Joe looked at her, sadly, and nodded as he pressed his lips together. "Sweetheart, do you…"

"No," she replied too fast, shaking her head. "No, I don't...um, just…" she took a breath. "What's his name? Is he...is he sick, or just an asshole? Where's he from? Do I have any…?"

"Honey, breathe," Elliot said, kissing her temple.

Joe smiled at the sight of his son being so tender with her. "Olivia, we don't even know if he's really your father. We just know...your mother was scared to death of him, but it doesn't mean…" he stopped himself. "We'll take him down to the station, question him, and if he is...we'll tell you everything you want to know." He nodded at them and said, "Go to class. Everything's fine, now."

Elliot breathed and gave his father a thankful smile, and then pulled Olivia down the hall slowly, until he stopped her and tugged her into an empty classroom. He kissed her forehead and held her for a moment, knowing they both needed. "How the hell can he expect us to go to fucking Pre-Calc, right now? This is...this is heavy, man!"

She nodded, sniffling, trying to stop herself from crying. "It is," she responded. "God, what if it's him? After not knowing for so long, if I…" and then her voice broke. She fell into him, finally letting herself cry. She'd been holding it in for two days, and knowing the man was in the same building as her, the man she'd wondered about, but hated, since birth. "If it is him, then...I will finally know who…"

"You know who you are," he cut her off, looking deeply into her eyes. "I know exactly who you are, so you do, too." He kissed her firmly and gripped her shoulders roughly, and then pushed her away a bit to look at her again. "You are brilliant, kind, so strong...you, for some ungodly reason, like pineapple on your pizza and chocolate covered potato chips. You hate the color orange, you can't stand the sound of people whistling, you have the highest GPA in our class, and you are one fucking talented writer. You love...with everything you have, and you hate just as passionately so I pity anyone who gets on your bad side. You have a killer left hook and you…" he smirked. "You have, like, the perfect body. You are amazing, and you never had any fucking help from either of your parents, so don't tell me that finding out you're part-Greek or some shit is going to make you a whole person, when you are the person...that makes me whole."

All she could do was stare, stunned, her eyes gazing into his, her lips frozen in mid-smile. "El," she managed to say on a breath. "Elliot, wow, I…" she sniffled again, her nose gave a slow hot burn, and the tears fell again, for a whole different reason. She moved, pressed her lips to his, and she let her hands fly to the back of his head and neck. As the kiss grew deeper, her tears ran hotter down her cheeks.

They coated his fingertips as he cupped her face, letting their tongues dance slowly in the dark room. He leaned back, using the bookcase behind him for support, and hiked her up a bit. He chuckled when she laughed, the taste of happiness now mixed into their kiss, and one of his hands slid down from her face to her back, stopping and settling just before the curve. He breathed deeply as their lips parted and let his head rest against hers, his eyes closed. "If it's him, or if it's not, you are Olivia Benson, bona-fide badass, my girl." He lifted his head and opened his eyes, jumping slightly at the sight of her wide open brown eyes. "And that's all...that's all we really need to know, right now, isn't it?"

She smiled and nodded, kissed him again, and whispered, "We should probably...actually go to class, now." She blinked. "Before we do something we'd regret."

"We wouldn't regret a fucking thing," he chuckled, but he straightened himself up anyway, opened the door, and took her down the hall toward her locker. "Get what you need for Spanish, we're, uh, not gonna make it to math before the bell."

She nodded as she dialed her combination, and then tugged open the large blue door. She grabbed her Spanish textbook and a binder, and when she pulled them off of the shelf, a folded piece of green paper flew out of her locker and fell to the floor.

Elliot noticed, bent and picked it up, and then unfolded it. "Shit," he hissed. "Never mind," he snapped, kicking her locker closed. He grabbed her hand and pulled hard, heading back toward the main office, back to his father. "This is...shit."

"Slow down," she called up to him, trying to pull on her arm.

"Walk faster," he shouted back, pulling harder in his direction. He rounded the corner, practically punched the door to the office open, and glared at his father. "What the hell is this?" he asked, thrusting the green paper at him. "You really think she needed this, right now? On top of everything else, today?"

Joe looked at his son, confused, taking the paper and reading it. His eyes widened. "I didn't...I didn't…" he shook his head, clearly bothered. "Where did you get this?"

"It was in her locker!" Elliot yelled. "Shoved between her books! I mean, you want to give her a heart attack during study hall or something?"

Olivia looked from Elliot to his father and back again. "What the hell is going on!" she asked, rubbing her shoulder now that Elliot stopped trying to dislocate it.

Joe looked down again, re-read the page, torn from the original case-file from her mother's rape. "I don't even know where her locker is, Elliot. Even if I did, I wouldn't...I wouldn't put this…" he rubbed a hand down his face. "I'm signing you two out, go home, stay there. Don't answer the phone, don't answer the door." He turned to the secretary and gestured for the book, scrawled their names, times, and signed the lines. Then he looked back at Elliot. "I didn't do this," he said, "But I know who did."

 **A/N: Oh my!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: "There is always some truth in our words, even when we lie." Alex David, age 12, his poem "Forget Regret."**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.**

The chair was ridiculously uncomfortable, her legs had stiffened and cramped and were getting colder the longer she sat, and she made a mental note to wear stockings under her skirt from now on. She looked over at Elliot, who seemed just as uncomfortable, and nudged him with her elbow. "How long does this usually take?"

"No idea," he said, though he was staring straight ahead, his lip caught between his teeth. "Never had one of these tests done, ya know? Maybe I should. Maybe my dad isn't really my dad, it would explain...everything."

"Sorry," she whispered, turning away from way, honestly regretting having spoken to him. He'd been in a rotten mood since his father brought them down to the station, and she was tired of bearing the brunt of it. She pulled her hand out of his, but gasped when he clutched it back immediately, gripping harder than before, and stared at him.

His wide eyes, filled with unshed tears, looked into hers, and he pulled her closer to him. He wrapped his loose arm around her and buried his head in the bend of her neck, in her dark hair, and he inhaled, breathing her in, before saying, "I'm sorry. I'm just...scared."

She heard the waver in his voice, felt him tremble as he held her, and the hand not holding his swept up his back. "Why? I'm the one he's…"

"Why do you think I'm fucking scared?" he laughed through a sob. "God, I promised you, I would never let anyone…"

"He hasn't hurt me," she interrupted, pushing back to look at him. "I'm fine. I'm with you, I'm right here, and I'm fine."

He nodded, not trusting his voice anymore, and he pulled her to him again. He closed his eyes and scoffed at everyone who'd ever said that teenagers don't know what love is, biting bitterly at people who told him he was too young to be in love, that he didn't even know how to tell if he was. He knew what love was, and he knew damn well he felt it so powerfully for the young girl in his arms. "I love you," he whispered, his voice harsher than he had intended. It was an adamant declaration.

"I love you, too," she told him softly, and her lips parted to say something else, something that maybe neither of them was ready to say. Fate agreed, as before she could speak, Joe Stabler walked out of a glass paned wooden door, holding a manilla folder. She looked at him with anticipating eyes, holding her breath.

He had a severe look on his face, he moved toward his son and Olivia hesitantly, not wanting to break them apart, and definitely not wanting to tell them what he had to say. "We, uh, got the results of…" he cleared his throat and crouched down so he could look into Olivia's frightened eyes. "Honey, the man in that room...is not your father."

She let out a breath, squeezed Elliot's hand a it harder, and she couldn't tell if the cause was relief or disappointment. "So that...that's it. I still don't...I still don't know who the hell I am." She closed her eyes and shook her head, stopping Elliot from speaking with a hard, "Don't. Okay, just...don't. Don't give me the same speech you've given me five times, I need answers! I know you think...you think it doesn't matter, that it wouldn't change anything, but God damn it, it matters! It would change everything!"

Elliot's heart broke as he watched her crack, tears she didn't even realize were falling running down her cheeks, her hands flailing as she ranted, her face reddening. He reached for her, but she swatted him away.

She turned to Joe, then, and her lips flattened into a tense line. "So who the hell is he? He went to see my mother, I haven't even been allowed to see her! She saw him and had a fucking breakdown, so who the hell is he, and what did he want with me if he isn't the guy?"

Joe flinched as she shouted, hurting for her, and he took a breath. "He was her…" he coughed. "He was a loan shark, Olivia. She owes him...a lot of money, and he thought that…"

"He wanted to kidnap me, hold me for ransom?" she spoke, and then she scoffed harshly and shook her head. "He would've been doing her a fucking favor, and she never would've…" her voice stopped, breaking with a crack. She shook her head. "Everyone would've been better off," she whispered, but Elliot heard her. She knew by the way he tightened his fingers around hers and pulled hard.

"I swear to God, I will convince you how wrong you are," he told her, looking deeply into her eyes, his voice muddled with conviction and promise. "I would have killed him if he even tried to…" he paused, shook his head, and leaned closer to her. "You don't really believe that anyone...that I would be better off if something happened to you? If he…" He kissed her cheek, one of her tears leaping from her face to his lips. Unfazed, he licked it away. "You are the best part of my life. My best friend, my partner in crime, the only person in the world I have absolute faith and trust in, and fuck, baby, the only person in the entire world that I know...loves me."

She blinked at him as she sniffled, and a few more tears fell. "El, I…"

"And so what, that hump isn't the fucker that raped your mother," he intruded, still holding her gaze intensely. "We wait a little longer to find out why you have brown eyes, or if you have relatives in fucking Russia or some shit," he smiled when she chuckled, and he brought both of his hands to her face. "You are here, on this earth, because of...whoever he is, for a reason, and there isn't a fucking doubt in my mind that the reason is...to save me." He kissed her lips softly. "And I'm only here...to save you. We are God's gifts to each other, because, well, He didn't really give us too many, did He?"

Joe leaned back on his heels, stunned at what he'd just heard each of the young ones before him say, their whole conversation burned into his memory. "Are you...are you two sure you're only fourteen?" He scratched his head, amazed at the level of maturity he witnessed, but then his face fell. He knew exactly why they were as old as they appeared, and why they weren't sitting there talking about football and rock music, why they weren't singing the latest pop hit or debating the finer points of video games. He knew, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt fully responsible. "Take her home, kid," Joe said to his son. "Your mom's got dinner on the table, I want you two to study for that math test and then…" he smiled at them. "You can hang out in the den until I get home, okay?"

"The den?" Elliot's eyes brightened and he sat up straighter. No one was allowed in his father's den, not without him. His mind raced with the prospects of playing on one of the six game consoles stored down there, or watching a horror movie on a TV that was nearly as big as his bedroom wall. "Really?" he asked, and then cursed himself for double-checking, knowing it meant his father could now change his mind.

"Really," Joe said as he stood, nodding at his son. "Just...be careful with…"

"I know, Dad." Elliot got out of his seat, held out his hand to Olivia, and smiled at her when she placed her hand in his palm. He held it tight as she got up, and he gave her a long, tight hug, sighing before letting go and leading her out of his father's department doors.

The walk down the hall was quiet, but when they stopped in front of the elevator, she looked over at him. "I do, you know."

"You…" he furrowed his brow. "You do, what?"

"Love you," she told him. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek a moment, and then, as they stepped into the elevator, she pushed the button for the lobby and said, "And I...um, you're the only person I have absolute faith and trust in, too. So it's not...you're not alone." She turned her head, mildly afraid of his reaction. "With you, I know I'm not...I'm not alone either. I think you were right. We were put here...for each other."

He let out a soft sigh, a weight falling off of his shoulders like hot water, and he put his hands on her shoulders. He moved, letting his arms drag over until they wrapped around her, and he spoke, very softly into her ear, "I love you."

"I love you," she returned. Rolling her eyes, she laughed, holding him tighter. "Your dad was right. We are not your average fourteen year olds." She kissed him but just as the elevator reached the lobby, she gasped. "El!"

"Yeah," he spoke as he tried to pull her out into the busy hall. When she resisted, he turned. "What?"

"He never told us who put that report in my locker," she told him, her eyes flickering with annoyed irritation.

Elliot bit his lip, pulled her out of the elevator, and very quietly said, "Yeah, he did."

"No, he…" and then she realized. "He told you. Who was it?"

He shook his head and replied, "It's not important. The guy's in a ton of trouble, can we just…"

"Who was it?" She asked him again, firmer, and walked faster as he sped up to guide her through the building. "El...come on."

"I will tell you, later, okay?" He took a deep breath and held the door open for her. "I'll tell you...when we get home, when…"

"When I can't go up there and make a scene, you mean!" she snapped, pulling back from him. "Damn it, Stabler, I just…"

"Hey," he interrupted, yanking her back. "Hey," he repeated, brushing a hand through her hair, soothing her, "I know you hate this place, I want to get you as far away from it as possible, and I want you eat something, take a hot shower, and then...when we are sitting in Dad's den, I will tell you, and we can play one of those games where you can take your anger out on killer zombies."

"Why would I be angry?" She quirked an eyebrow, questioning him.

He kissed her cheek and said, "I promise, will tell you. Later."

 **A/N: Whooooo?**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: "Age is much more than our years on Earth, age is intelligence, wisdom, experience, and age is what happens when you are no longer a child, and innocence is taken. I am ten, but I am no child. I have age beyond your possible imagination." Nolan D., age 10, his slam poem "Childhood Gone."**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.**

"Why the hell would he do that?" Olivia yelled, a fluffy white bathrobe that was far too big for her dragging as she paced rapidly in the Stablers' den. "He lied to my face, spouting some crap about only having my best interests…"

"My dad said he just wanted you to know that she went to the cops," Elliot interrupted, watching her move too fast for him to catch her.

"Your father," she scoffed bitterly. "He's another one, just saying shit to get what he wanted to nail my mother and put her in that...that...hellhole!" She folded her arms as she paced, her bare feet leaving tracks in the shag carpet as they dragged to and fro. "I don't know how I let myself trust him. Either of them. Especially…"

"Now, that's not fair!" he yelled, and then he lowered his voice, knowing she was only acting out of fear and shame and anger. "My father really is just trying to help you. My brothers went to get more of your stuff, you know that, right? If my parents didn't want to help you, keep you safe, and with us...with...with me...then he wouldn't have pulled strings to make sure that's where you fucking stayed."

She nodded, knowing he was right, but she swatted her wet, clingy hair out of her face and said, "His partner, Elliot! He let his own partner give me that...that fucking...I didn't need to read that! I didn't need to know...exactly what she went through! I mean, shit, no wonder she fucking hates me!"

Elliot flinched at her words, then turned his eyes up at her. He reached for her arm but she moved too fast for him to grab it. "Dad said that Cragen never meant to scare you, or piss you off, but he felt that you had a right to…"

"I had a right to what?" she snapped, stopping mid-walk, her wet hair flying back as her head whipped toward Elliot. "I had a right to read my mother's nightmare? I had a right to have her words burned into my brain? I had a right to know that she went to the cops and they didn't do jack shit?"

"You had a right to know what color his eyes were, how tall he was, and that he had a British accent," Elliot replied, trying to stay calm as he stood up from the couch and hesitantly reached for her. "Cragen left that page in your locker, thinking it would answer a couple of those questions you've got, and so you would know...if you got a good look at the man who was at school, that you'd know it wasn't your father."

She let her hands drop into his and curl around them, her gaze fell to their linking fingers. "Maybe I should have tried to come off as a weak little girl, after that fight at the game, after all. He never would have left it there, for me to find, if he thought I was just a kid. No one...no one would do that to a..."

Elliot moved, bending his head and kissing her cheek and stopping her words short. "You're not weak, and you're not a little girl." He kissed her lips. "You haven't been in...ever. I think you were born a teenager and now you're a Goddamn adult."

She laughed at his words, but shook her head and sniffled. "I'd give anything to be like...everybody else." She pulled away from him and dropped into the sofa, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. "That girl in our history class...the blonde. Kathy, is it?" she spoke, her lip bit between her teeth. "God, she must have the perfect life." She let her eyes roll up a it, staring at the ceiling almost reverently. "Both parents who love her unconditionally, a ton of friends...a childhood filled with memories of playgrounds and birthday parties, family vacations, bedtime stories and goodnight kisses and…" she sniffled again, the tears rolling down her cheeks as she stared, unblinking, at a photo on the wall. "She doesn't have nightmares about being locked in a closet, or her drunken mother coming after her with a broken bottle. She doesn't have scars from belts and sharp nails, and she doesn't have to look in the mirror every night and see the face of a monster staring back at her."

Elliot had found his way beside her, pulled her body into his lap and held her tight, without her even realizing it. He rocked her slightly, kissed her forehead, and brought one hand up to her chin to pull her face toward his. He looked into her eyes as he whispered, "She doesn't have a best friend who's willing to kill and die for her, she doesn't have strength and courage and this...fearlessness that amazes me. She doesn't have a radiance that lights up the world, or the IQ of a Mensa genius. She can't throw a punch that could knock out Tyson, or throw a football a hundred yards, or beat every level of _After Earth IV_ on her first life. She can't write a Pulitzer winning poem about cheesecake, or an entire novel dedicated to the healing powers of pepperoni pizza, and she can't make me fall in love with her every single time she looks at me...the way you do." He brushed his nose against hers. "Kathy...has the perfect life for Kathy, and you...you have lived your life the way it was laid out, to make you who you, because it means that who you're gonna be...is a fucking superhero, Liv." He brushed his hand along her cheek. "Kathy's just gonna end up someone's trophy wife, hosting Tupperware parties and making hot chocolate for her little Stepford family. You...you are gonna change the world."

She blinked, then, only once, and her lips were on his before she'd finished taking a breath. Her hands would around his neck and she moaned when she felt his arms smooth up her back and press into her, holding her tighter, closer to him. She cried as their kiss deepend, her soft sniffles filling spaces between moans, and she trembled in his arms, knowing what she wanted, what she felt, but too scared, not ready, to ask it of him.

He pulled away, then, feeling his own heart race and his body burn with something he wasn't ready to feed. "It's over," he breathed. "For now, it...it's all over. Your mom has another two months in that place, that guy is in a cage, and we...we can just...relax. We can breathe. And, for now, at least I hope...we can try to be...happy. Normal, and happy."

She nodded, giving one final sniffle as her eyes dried up and she moved to get off of his lap. She raised an eyebrow when he tightened his grip on her.

"Normal, happy teenagers," he chuckled. He moved to kiss her again, leaning back on the couch and making them both comfortable.

When he heard the door creak open, he groaned softly. He cringed his closed eyes, the light from the hallway hitting his face, rousing him. "What the…"

"Hey," Joe Stabler whispered into the dark den, moving toward his son. "You, uh, you two look cozy."

Elliot narrowed his only half-open eyes and turned his head. Olivia was laying on top of him, her head on his chest, sound asleep. "We weren't...we didn't...I guess we just fell asleep on the…"

"I didn't even think anything happened," Joe cut him off. "You're fully clothed, pal. I just...I went up to check on you, and when I saw your room was empty, I figured you were still down here."

Elliot rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?" he yawned.

"Almost three," Joe replied, "You should wake her up, take her upstairs." He ran a hand down his face. "You have a pretty big game tomorrow, huh, kid?"

Elliot nodded as he gently shook Olivia. "Championship," he mumbled sleepily. "I have to be at school at noon, there's practice, a pep-rally, and then the game." He looked at his dad as he ushered a zombie-like Olivia to a sitting position and sat up himself. "She's coming with me."

"I figured," Joe laughed. "Listen, um, if you ever need to talk to me about anything...anything at all…" he licked his lips. "You know...you can, right? I need you to know that you...I'm here for you. I know I haven't always been, I have had my moments, and you bore the brunt of a lot of rage and misplaced…" he shook his head and gave a heavy breath. "Now...I'm here, now, for...for both of you. I never want you to feel like you can't come to me if you need help, or advice, or...even if you just need new shoes or a peanut butter and jelly sand…"

"What happened?" Elliot asked, interrupting him, wide awake now. "Dad?"

"I had a bad night," his father said, scratching his stubbled cheek. "A, uh, a fifteen year old kid...died in my arms tonight. He asked his father for money...and I…" his voice broke, he shook his head again, and he leaned forward to pull his son into a warm hug. "I am never gonna hurt you again. I swear, on my life, Elliot. I am so sorry. For everything."

Elliot's eyes closed and, for the first time, he hugged his father back just as tightly. They had their moment, one that seemed as though would never happen, as Olivia smiled sadly at them and quietly slipped out of the room, plodded up the stairs, and headed into Elliot's bedroom.

She smiled a bit more broadly when she saw that her desk had been brought over to his place, and was now nestled directly across from his, pressed against it. Two more bags of her clothes had been unpacked and hung up in Elliot's closet, and a stack of book from her "to-read" pile had been set down on the floor beside the bed. She sighed, feeling a pang of guilt, feeling that she was somehow imposing on this family that, until a month ago, had only known her in passing, had only known her as "Elliot's little friend."

She cleared her throat and moved toward the closet, and pulled a set of pajamas off of a hanger on what was now, to her surprise, her side of the space. She tugged the pants on before working off her robe, and she managed to get her top on and half buttoned before Elliot walked into the room.

"Don't…" he spoke, heading over to her. He brushed his hands through her hair and then cupped her face. "Don't ever just leave like that, okay? Tell me where you're going, even if...even it's just to the bathroom, or…"

"I didn't want to interrupt you," she broke in, ironically. "It was an emotional...you know, with your dad, and I…" she shook her head. "I felt like maybe I shouldn't have been there. Like I was...intruding."

He swept his thumbs under her eyes. "Never," he whispered. "My life...every single part of it...always includes you. Understand?"

She nodded, smiled as he kissed her forehead, and rolled her eyes when he kept his hands on her face and pulled her toward the bed.

They fell onto the mattress sharing a laugh, and he moved his hands down to her pajama top, finishing the job of looping the last few buttons into their holes. He pulled and tugged the blankets over them, snuggled close to her, and draped an arm around her. He kissed the back of her neck and whispered, "Turn off the light."

She reached out and pulled the chain on the bedside lamp, blinking quickly to readjust to the dark. She moved, backward, closer to him, and her right hand slipped down to her stomach, lacing her fingers with his as he palmed her skin beneath her shirt. She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes, and exhaled slowly, relaxing into him, finally allowing herself to let him love her, no matter what that meant, no matter how he wanted or needed to, and no matter how afraid she was.

He felt her curl her finger between his, clenching his hand a bit tighter, and he shoved closer to her, his body firmly pressing into hers. He swallowed hard as he realized there was no way he could avoid her feeling his reaction to her, the proof against her curves. "I really do love you," he whispered. "All of you. Everything about you. So much."

She didn't turn to look at him, she didn't give him any indication that she could tell or that she minded. She simply took another breath and said, "I know. I love you, too." She felt his head find a comfortable dip in the bend of her neck and they snuggled even closer, falling asleep together for the second time that night.

They knew that when they woke, they'd face the world a little differently, with a different outlook. They just weren't prepared for the world to fight back.

 **A/N: uh oh?**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: "Baseball bats were not a game, bones became the ball and the pinch hitter never missed." Nolan D., age 10, his slam poem "Childhood Gone."**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.**

"There's something different about you," Alex stated, twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger, her eyes narrow behind her glasses. She shook her head. "I can't put my finger on it."

"She doesn't look like she's carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders," Elliot said, not looking up from his book. He flipped the page, licked his lips, and smiled. "She's, uh, well, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say she actually woke up happy, today. We both did."

Alex laughed, then, and said, "Yeah, that's...that's it. You look...well, I've never seen you so relaxed."

"I don't have a reason to be…" Olivia bit her lip. She shook her head, not willing to finish the sentence, and she looked at Elliot, who was still engrossed in his book. "What are you reading? You haven't put it down all day."

He twisted in his seat, turning the cover of the book toward her, and he caught her eyes as they widened. "Impressed?"

"Slightly," she teased, grinning as he chuckled and went back to reading _The Forensics of a Criminal Mind._

Alex scribbled something down in her notebook and asked, "What's it like, Liv?"

"What...what's what like?" Olivia questioned back, confused. She moved a pencil absentmindedly across a page in her journal, not even sure of what she was drawing.

"Having a boyfriend who...isn't just with you for…" Alex averted her eyes, slightly embarrassed.

Olivia's smile faded, her eyes fogged up. She pushed herself closer to Alex and lowered her voice. "Are you trying to tell me you had sex with him?"

Alex blinked. "Not...not, you know, all the way," she stammered. "Just...he asks me to...do other things for him, a lot, and we never just talk, or study, or...I don't even think we've ever watched a movie all the way through." She bit her lip. "He enjoys it, he says it...it means I love him, but I don't even know if I do, I just...it makes him happy, so…"

"If he's not even aware that you're not into it, if even asks you to do anything…" Elliot's voice broke into their conversation, proving he could hear them even though they were whispering, "He's being a dick, and he doesn't really give a shit about you." He flipped the page of his book and looked over at the girls. "You said you don't talk, you don't spend any time together, so how the hell could you love him? He's using you. Point blank."

Alex squinted at him, her lips scowling. "You don't know what he feels about…"

"Does he know your favorite color?" Elliot asked. "If you have any allergies? Does he even know your middle name, Cabot? I mean, shit, Liv sleeps in the damn bed with me every night, and I haven't so much as kissed her without knowing she wants to be kissed. I have had a million chances to ask her to give me a hand with a hard problem, if you know what I'm saying, but I don't. And I won't. Know why?" He saw the flummoxed look on Alex's face. "I love her, and we're not ready for that shit, yet. That...that gets messy, and complicated, and I know...I would want it to be an absolutely mutual decision, not just me finding an easy way to get my rocks off, yeah?"

Alex's eyes relaxed and her face fell. "You...you two share a bed?"

"We don't live in a fucking mansion, and she doesn't really know my sisters too well, yet," he tried to explain. "My point is...if you don't really know him, he has no right to ask that of you. Besides, that's something...that should be intimate, and you should have a real connection because those are...some pretty sensitive areas, there should be love and trust and it's a decision that's gonna stick with you. The first person you have sex with, any kind of sex, it someone that's burned into your memory, heart, and soul for the rest of your life, and at fourteen, it could be a fucking stupid choice to make." He looked briefly at Olivia, something in him cracking a little bit, mending itself as he took a breath. "You need to make sure that person is someone who deserves to have a part of you that you won't ever be able to take back, someone you want to give that to, and from what you're saying, I really doubt that person, for you, is Brian fucking Cassidy."

Olivia couldn't believe his words, her head tilted slightly to the side, her hair falling with it. She fell in love with him all over again, yet still, she couldn't believe she'd done it the first time. "You...you really believe that, don't you?"

He nodded firmly. "It's one of the reasons…" he let the book twitch in his hands as he shrugged. "I made a decision about what field I want to go into, ya know, after the police academy." He held her gaze, his face serious, and he nodded again when the question danced in her eyes. "With you," he told her.

"El," she whispered, stunned, and her eyes burned with the need to form tears, but she refused to allow it. She looked down, then, and she gasped. Unknowingly, unintentionally, she had drawn a perfect pencil-sketch of Elliot, reading his book. That's how she knew that she couldn't doubt her feelings anymore, no matter how much she wanted to try.

The bell rang, and the three friends stacked their things as they rose from the table in the back of the room. "What do you have now?" Alex asked, looking from Elliot to Olivia and back again.

"History," they said together, and then shared a laugh. "I hope they found a new teacher, I don't think I can stand another hour of Father Michael making us watch animated Bible stories," Olivia complained.

Elliot chuckled as he took her hand and walked with her, out of study hall and into the corridor. He turned to look at Alex, trying to give her a smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like you…"

"It's fine," Alex stopped him, holding up a hand. "I know, you...everything you said is absolutely right, but now it's like...he expects things, and if I don't…"

"Then break up with him," Olivia interrupted, sounding as though it was an obvious solution. "If that's all he's after, Al, then let him find with someone who would be perfectly happy just being _that_ , because you deserve so much more."

"I gotta ask," Elliot began, his grin turning smug. "Only because he fucking brags about it all the time. Is it honestly anything really...impressive?"

Alex's jaw dropped and she let out a scoffing laugh. "Oh, God," she rolled her eyes and turned pink. "I don't really have a lot to compare it to," she defended. "But, um, like...I guess it's...average?" She made a contemplative face as she shoved her binder under her arm and tried to gauge the length of Cassidy's manhood with her hands.

Elliot shook his head and patted Alex on the shoulder. "Break up with him," he said, almost as though he were giving her brotherly advice. "Uh, trust me, that...you, um, you won't be missing much." He laughed again. "And now we know why he talks about it all the time." He snickered. "Same reason he's probably gonna buy a sports car first chance he gets."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "He's still a kid, El, cut him some slack," she relayed.

"If he's still, uh, growing...so am I," he swiped his tongue along his lips again and there was a new kick in his step, a cocky smirk on his face. He looped his hand, still holding Olivia's, around her shoulders and pulled her closer, feeling a surge of teenage male pride. "Later," he said, acknowledging Alex turning down the hall to head to her class. He stopped with Olivia, just outside the history class door. "I was serious," he told her as he let her go.

"Huh?" She looked into his blue eyes, the question mark evident on her face.

"I will never ask you to do anything, not unless I know...I know it's what you want, too," he said in a low, serious voice. "I'm never gonna pressure you into anything, and I swear to God, if you ever say 'no' to me, I'll listen." He brushed his knuckles along her cheek and kissed her forehead, closing his eyes at contact.

"I know," she whispered back to him, her voice weak with emotion. "But, um…" she cleared her throat, and when he looked down at her, she twisted and bit her lip. "I would never say 'no,' El. Not to you." She blinked, almost unconvinced she'd actually said it out loud. "Just so...so you know."

He gave her a warm smile, kissed her cheek, and nudged her into the classroom just as the bell rang. He stopped her from sitting in a desk near the front, seeing that there was no available desk beside it, and he dragged her to two free ones in the middle of the room. He watched as she sat and then dropped her books, which he'd been carrying, onto the desk in front of her. He slid into the seat of his own desk and was about to flip open his book and ignore the cheesy version of _Noah's Ark_ that was beginning to play on the TV at the front of the room.

"Hey, Elliot," a sickeningly sweet voice called to him.

He felt the cold hand on his wrist, and slowly, he arched a brow and tilted his chin toward its owner. "What do you want, Kathy?"

Kathy, the blonde who flirted with him relentlessly, batted her long mascara-coated lashes at him. "You were brilliant on Saturday," she cooed, smiling at him. "That last play, the way you threw the ball right into the end zone…" she laughed. "You won."

"The team won," he said, his face now centered, his eyes focused on his book. "Could you…" he pulled his arm up, away from her touch. "Don't touch me, I don't like to be touched."

Kathy gave him a slant-eyed glare, though he didn't notice. "Oh, I'm sure I could find a few ways to touch you that you would...love."

"Pretty sure if you tried, my girlfriend would break your legs," he said back to her, still not looking at her, but grinning at the thought of Olivia's violent jealous streak.

"Girlfriend," Kathy chuckled. "You...you mean, Benson? Come on, Elliot, I'm sure she's fully aware that she's not really the kind of girl…"

"Finish that sentence," Elliot broke in, "And she won't be the only one breaking your legs." His nostrils flared, his right eye twitched, and he rolled his shoulders, his neck making a tense cracking sound. "I have a girlfriend, stop trying, because short of death, nothing is…"

"Jeez," Kathy scoffed, crossing her arms and her legs. "Chill, it's not like you're engaged. You're in high school, you can date around, I'm sure she's got more than one…"

"Just me," he stopped her again. "Just her. That's called a relationship, and I suggest you find another tree to bark up, before you and I have a problem."

Rolling her eyes, she slumped lower in her desk, and she watched Elliot, as if trying to punctuate his words with actions, moved his desk closer to Olivia's, wrapped an arm around the back of her chair, and shoved the book between them. She felt the rumble in her throat as she growled, but she shook her head, knowing that she'd eventually have a shot with him, because they were just kids, and they would eventually split up.

Olivia leaned her head against Elliot's shoulder for a moment, nuzzling him. "I heard you," she whispered to him, turning the page for him when she knew he'd needed it done.

"I wasn't trying to keep it from you," he said to her, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. "I wasn't just talking shit, either, I meant everything I said to her. She touches me again, the bitch is going down, and one of us is getting sent to Juvie."

She laughed, letting her eyes flicker toward his as she lifted her head. "You're insane," she joked, shaking her head.

"Not insane," he protested. "Crazy. About you." He winked at her and just as the priest began to scan the room for the source of the whispering he'd heard, they straightened and stared ahead at the television. Once the coast was clear, though, he kissed her lips fast, and then went back to reading.

She took a deep breath and let herself exhale slowly. "Hey, uh, after school, you wanna go to that place on Newby? The burger place with the arcade?"

"Hell yes," he huffed excitedly, smiling at her. He watched, his heart warming, as she smiled even more broadly, and he knew, then, that she really had woken up happy. He brushed her hair behind her ear, promising her, and himself, that she'd never have a reason to let that feeling go.

A loud beep interrupted both his reverie and the crappy movie, and he stiffened when he heard the voice call over the PA system. "Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson, to the main office please. Have your things ready to go home."

"What the fuck?" Elliot spat, shifting his desk back and getting up fast. He swiped Olivia's books into one hand and grabbed her arm with his other. He practically pulled her through the hall, only stopping at her locker, throwing both set of books into it and grabbing her coat. "Mine can wait," he breathed, and tugged her as he ran faster, rounded the corner, and stopped at the entrance to the office. "Dad?"

Joe Stabler rose from his spot on the waiting bench, tears in his eyes. "Hey, kid, uh...you...you don't have your stuff."

"I'll go get it when you tell me what's wrong," Elliot told his father.

"Your mother, uh...there was an accident." He swallowed and rubbed his eyes. "She's...hurt. God, she had Danny in the car with her, and he...he needs surgery, we need to go, now, so…"

"Oh, my God," Elliot croaked. He was frozen, staring at his father as a tear rolled out of one of his unblinking eyes.

"I'll go," Olivia said, running a hand down Elliot's arm, and she ran fast in the direction of his locker to get their bookbags and his coat. Her heart raced, pounded against her chest, and for the first time, she felt like her family was in danger. She didn't feel such fear when her mother was in the hospital. No, she realized that feeling in her stomach when her mother was hurt was relief. "Please," she whispered with closed eyes, talking to a God she'd waffled between thanking and cursing throughout her life, "Please, let them be okay."

She hurried back down the hall, toward Elliot and his father, hoping that, despite everything she'd put Him through, God was listening to her.

 **A/N: Whaaaaaaat?**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: "The way your eyes lit up when I cringed in fear, the way they should have the day I was born, made me almost grateful for the abuse." Nolan D., age 10, his slam poem "Childhood Gone."**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.**

Olivia stood, leaning against the wall, her small frame swallowed by Elliot's varsity jacket. She wrapped herself up in the leather and wool, wishing it was his arms, and then chuckled pitifully at herself for wishing anything of the sort. She watched the rest of the family playing a silent game of musical chairs, getting up, shifting, sitting down again, having quiet conversations where they pretended not to blame each other for things.

Her lip caught between her teeth as she took in the sight of Elliot and one of his sisters, engrossed in a volley of words she couldn't hear, and she swatted the hair out of her eyes with the only bit of fingers not eaten by the jacket's leather sleeve. She felt like an outlier, unsure of what to say to anyone, certain she had no right to be there, only present because she had nowhere else to go. She continued chewing on her lip and backed up even further, not wanting to make anyone feel like she was eavesdropping. "Oh," she gasped, turning quickly to see who she'd bumped into, and she squinted. "Sorry, I was just…"

"Olivia," a man in a long white coat smiled at her. "My goodness, I haven't seen you in quite some time." He saw the blank look on her face and laughed softly. "Well, I don't expect you'd remember me, sweetheart. You were...never really conscious when I…" he cleared his throat. "I'm Doctor…"

"Hensley," Olivia said suddenly, her eyes widening, "I do remember you, now. Um, I'm not here because of my…"

"I didn't think you were, honey," the doctor interrupted. "You're awake and standing, that alone tells me you are...not my patient, today." He looked around. "Wait, is your mother here for…"

"No, no, she's...she's fine," she said without thinking, realizing she didn't actually know what condition her mother was in, at all. "My, um, my boyfriend's mom and little brother, they were in an accident, we just came up from…"

"Danny Stabler?" Doctor Hensley questioned. He watched Olivia nod, and smiled slightly. "Take me to the family, then, I have news for them."

Worried now, believing news from a doctor was never good, she led him over to the waiting group, including Elliot, and gestured to them before folding her arms, and herself, deeper into the jacket.

Joe Stabler stood up fast. "What happened? How is he? How's my boy?" he asked fast, unblinking.

"He has a few fractures, his wrist and arm, and a bump on the noggin that's gonna smart for some time," Hensley listed, but then he laughed. "He's awake and asking his big brother to bring him some ice cream."

There were relieved laughs and harsh, exhausted sobs, and Joe sighed as he wiped his eyes, and then nodded at Elliot. "Go," he whispered, "He wants you, go."

Elliot shot to his feet, moving fast and grabbing Olivia's arm. "Where is he?" he asked, gripping tighter, trying to find her muscle beneath the leather.

"Room Ninety-Four," the doctor said. "I will take…"

"I know where it is," Olivia interrupted, pulling herself free from Elliot and leading him through a set of swinging doors, leaving Doctor Hensley to talk more with Joe and the rest of the family.

"Do I want to know why you know where his room is?" Elliot asked, reattaching his hand to her arm. "Or why it seemed like you and that doctor were pretty chummy?"

She turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing a bit. "You're jealous of a guy who's old enough to be my…"

"No, I'm concerned because my girlfriend has a better relationship with a pediatric surgeon than I do with my own family!" He pulled her close to him, both hands on her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. "Tell me. Now."

"Christ," she hissed, "You already know! He's the doctor who was usually on call when...when my mother sobered up enough to realize she really hurt me." She licked her lips. "When she regained enough common sense to call an ambulance, ya know, while I was still alive."

"Baby," he breathed, his eyes filling with fresh tears, and he pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her. "Never again, I swear."

She nodded and sniffled, and then said, "Let's go see the little dude, huh?"

He chuckled, wiping his eyes, and pushed through the door with a forced smile. "Hey, champ!" he said brightly.

"Elliot!" Danny yelled, smiling widely. "Look!" he exclaimed, proudly showing off his casted arm. "Cool, right?"

Elliot tried to give a thumbs-up, but he didn't see anything cool at all about his brother lying in a hospital bed, broken. He shot a look over toward Olivia, who seemed to be gazing at the drawn curtains, as if they were not only familiar, but comforting. With a sigh, he moved toward the side of the bed and looked at his little brother. "The doctor said you're lucky you've got a hard head," he teased, ruffling Danny's hair.

Danny giggled and sat up a bit taller. "Hey, Liv, you have to sign it!" he squealed, getting Olivia's attention. He reached over toward the small metal table beside his bed and grabbed a red marker that the doctor had left for him, and with a broad grin, he held it out to her.

She took it with a laugh, and sat gently on the edge of his mattress as she gingerly picked up his arm. "Hold still," she warned playfully, and she eyed him suspiciously for a moment before setting off on doodling. She drew a cartoon drawing of Danny in a Yankees cap and uniform, throwing a ball, with the words, "When this cast is off, game on!" followed by a small heart and her name.

"You're so good," Elliot whispered to her, staring in amazement down at the plaster artwork.

She shook her head and blushed, capped the marker, and put it back on the table. "It's going to be itchy, Slugger," she said, using a nickname she'd given him a while ago. "Whatever you do, do not try to stick a fork or anything in there." She shook her head with wide eyes, making Danny laugh loudly, but it was serious, honest advice. "Trust me, you'll want to, but...very bad idea," she wagged a finger at him, and then tapped his nose.

There was a loud knock on the door, and immediately Olivia shot up off the bed, not wanting the family to think she was doing something she shouldn't have been. Elliot noticed, giving her an odd, inquisitive look. "Liv," he said to her, reaching for her hand, "What are you…"

She shook her head and sunk closer to him, hoping between his jacket and his body, she'd go unnoticed.

"Hey, little guy!" Laura came further into the room holding a blue teddy bear and a donut. "Hungry?"

"Yes!" Danny yelled, holding his bendable arm out for the pastry as his sister laughed. He bit into it happily, doing a little dance, as his father moved toward him.

"Hey, pal," Joe offered, "You all right?"

Danny held up a finger as he chewed fast and swallowed. "Yeah," he said, nodding, and he took another bite of his donut.

"Mommy's okay," Christine told him, sniffling as she tried to keep from crying. "She's sleeping, now, but she's...she's okay."

Danny swallowed and then looked at her. "What about the man?"

"What...what man?" Joe asked, confused.

Lifting the donut to his mouth, Danny looked at his father. "The man who got in the way of the car." He bit, innocently, and chewed as he waited expectantly for an answer.

Joe shook his head. "Shit," he hissed, leaving the room to find out what his son was talking about.

"Hey," Laura said, grabbing Danny's cast. "Kiddo, who drew this...Liv." She looked up after reading the swirly script and smiled at Olivia. "You're the one that's been making him those comic books, aren't you?"

Olivia smiled sheepishly. "Yeah," she shifted and rocked on her heels. "Um, they're not...like, they're totally kid friendly, I didn't think…"

"They're awesome," Christine interrupted. "I love reading them with him, he's so proud of being a...well, he thinks he's a famous superhero." She rolled her eyes and laughed. "You drew them and wrote them and everything?"

Olivia nodded again, biting her lip. "You, um...all of you are…" she cleared her throat. "Chrissy, you're Green Goddess, ya kow, because you're…"

"A vegetarian," Christine gasped, not having made the connection before, "Yeah. I am."

Olivia took a breath and looked at Laura. "You're Inferno, because Danny thinks you…"

"You look like your head is on fire," Danny chirped, laughing, tugging on his sister's intensely dyed, red hair.

Laura scoffed in awe, "Wow," she said, shaking her head. "That's my favorite character."

Glancing at Elliot, Olivia pressed her lips together. "You're Quantum, the one who can change shape and appearance so he can…"

"Save anyone, anywhere," Elliot whispered. "Oh, honey," he softly intoned, cupping her cheeks.

Danny proudly declared, "And I am The Incredible DanMan! I'm the smartest, fastest, cutest kid in Metropoville!" He posed like a superhero and said, "I can fly, see through walls, and eat two pounds of bacon in one sitting!"

Everyone in the room laughed and then Christine looked at Olivia. "He has a new one every week! They must take you…"

"I make them during study hall, so it's…" she shrugged. "They make him happy."

Laura let out a single laugh. "They make all of us happy, actually, the way he goes around reenacting them, making us all read them with him." She blinked. "You've got a gift, Olivia. I mean it. They're really...very good."

"You should hear her poetry," Elliot bragged, kissing Olivia's forehead.

She blushed again and tried to draw deeper into the large jacket she was wearing.

Christine noticed, this time, too, and swallowed hard before saying, "We, um, we don't really know too much about you, Olivia. Elliot is...very selfish, when it comes to you."

"That's right," Elliot chuckled with a shrug. "I am."

"There's really...not much to know," she told them. She twisted her lips and waited for someone else to speak, but when they didn't, she added, "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be here, you should...you need to just be…"

"Finish that sentence," Elliot spoke, in a low whisper. "I dare you." He shook his head when she raised an eyebrow at him. "You belong...wherever I am. You don't really think I would have been as calm as I was, if you weren't with me, do you?" He scoffed. "I mean, you spent more time with the ficus out there in the lobby than me, but...just knowing you were here, with me...I always need to know that. I need you. Get me?"

She nodded, dropping into him, and just before he bent his head to kiss her again, the door swung open, and Joe Stabler stood, fuming, next to his two oldest sons, Ryan and Owen. "I'll be fine," he spat, holding up a hand , keeping Laura from running to him. "Just a little...upset."

Owen moved into the room, hugging each sibling tightly, and then doing the same thing Elliot had done, ruffled Danny's hair. "Hang in there, Spud," he said with a wink, and then he looked around the room and his eyes landed on Olivia. "Did I...did I hug you?" he pointed to her.

"Yeah, but, you know, everyone else got one," she shrugged. "I'd be offended if I didn't."

It seemed to ease some of the tension and Owen tilted his head as everyone laughed. He walked over to Elliot, slapping him on the shoulder again, and looked at Olivia with a grin. "I should have double checked, but, I mean, I just figured I had a sister I forgot about. So many kids in this damn family. Who are you?"

"Olivia Benson," she held out a hand, "Elliot's…"

"Wow, uh," Owen cut her off and shook her hand eagerly, his eyes wide. He knew exactly who she was now. "Yeah, he, uh, he told me about you. Nice to finally be able to put a face to the name."

"Likewise," Olivia told him with another friendly smile. "Why, um…" she turned up one side of her mouth, her eyes wide, and jutted a thumb toward the doorway, where Joe was having what looked like a quiet but heated conversation with Ryan.

"Mom," Owen sighed. "When she...when she lost control of the car, it spun out and hit a trash can, two newspaper dispensers, and a streetlight." He saw them nod, already knowing that, "But...before that, she...shit, man, she hit a guy. A man, a, uh, a person." He cleared his throat and shook his head. "They can't find him, but there's...blood and stuff...in the bumper of the car. Dad...dad can't do anything for her, and if they find the guy and he's hurt...or dead…"

"Oh, my God," Elliot breathed, pulling Olivia closer to him. He dropped his head to hers and closed his eyes as he whispered, "Oh, God, Mom."

 **A/N: Oh. Oh no, Bernie. What happened, and why?**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: "I can't hide under the mattress or behind my soccer uniform anymore. And you can't hide behind your status or your money." Nolan D., age 10, his slam poem "Childhood Gone."**

 **DISCLAIMER: Credit for inspiration and original creation goes to Dick Wolf. This version of characters and events, and written story, belongs to me. ::Evil laugh::**

"Dad said they called around, and no one reported a hit and run, no one was brought into any hospitals with injuries consistent with…"

"You already sound like one," Olivia mused, staring at Elliot intently while her right hand moved blindly across a blank page of her sketchpad.

He squinted and tilted his head. "One what?"

"A cop." She sighed and dropped her attention down to what she'd been drawing. The blank pen in her hand seemed to take on its own personality as the arbitrary shapes on the page suddenly grew faces and features.

He craned his neck and peered down at her work, grinning. "What happens in this one?"

"The Incredible DanMan single handedly stops a train from going off the rails," she said. "Inferno and Green Goddess try to help, but they get caught up in a battle with Siren, who wants everyone in the city to…"

"Siren?" he interrupted. He smoothed Olivia's hair back and scooted his chair closer to hers, looking more closely at the panels of her comic. "Who's that? A new villain?"

"She's made an appearance or two," she replied, grinning, but her smile faded as she drew in the angry eyes and tensely pursed lips of her antagonist. "Her alter ego is the English teacher at the school."

With realization, he inhaled sharply and said, "Based on your mom?"

As she nodded, she pressed harder on the pen, the pressure of the strokes leaving splatters of ink on either side of the crisp lines of light being drawn from Siren's eyes. "Pretty accurate representation."

He chuckled, but he softened and lowered his voice, moving even closer to her. "Who, um...who are you? I mean...did you write yourself into this masterpiece?"

"Um…" she hummed, sketching in the final few finishing touches in the last frame of the page. She scrawled the words _You may have burned me this time, Inferno, but I'll extinguish you yet!_ into the speech bubble over Siren's head. "No," she shrugged. "It's not my story. It's for Danny, and the characters are his family, it's his life. I just drew inspiration from the most evil person I know for the villains." She took a breath and looked up at Elliot, letting her pen drop so she could rub out the cramp in her fingers. "All of them...they're all my mother."

Squinting, he shook his head. "You're his family, Liv. You're, like, his favorite person." He brushed his hand along her cheek. "You're a part of my family. You have to know that, by now." He smiled at her and said, "I know you want to bring this to him after school to cheer him up, but I think what would really do the trick...is if he finally meets a character based on you." He wagged his brows at her and added, "I know Quantum would love it."

She rolled her eyes, but laughed. "I'm not...I'm not a hero, El. There's nothing…"

"You have saved me, a million times," he interrupted. "And think about what you have to look forward to, what you want to be when we grow up! I mean, what's more heroic than that?" He let out another heavy breath. "Look, I won't force you, but...I think...writing yourself into this would help you see yourself the way I see you." He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and held her gaze. "Beautiful, brilliant, talented, selfless, and so brave and strong...that sounds like a hero to me." He kissed her softly, just as the bell rang, and he gathered their books together into a pile.

She bit her lip, raised a brow at him, and nodded once, telling him that she'd think about it. She got out of her seat and took his offered hand, letting him pull her toward the door. Their brief, quiet walk was interrupted when Cassidy jumped out in front of them in the hallway.

"Jesus, man!" Elliot yelled, trying to kick him. Cassidy had dodged the attempt. "What the hell? Don't do that!" He took a deep breath and tried to shake off the startle. "What do you want, bro?"

"How's Danny?" Cassidy asked.

Elliot looked at Olivia, almos glaring.

"I didn't tell him! If I did, you'd know, considering I've been with you all damn day!" She rolled her eyes and huffed.

"Right, sorry, baby," Elliot puffed, and then he looked at Brian. "How the hell did you know something hap…"

"Newspaper," Brian spoke before Elliot's question was finished. "I thought you saw it, man!" He pulled a rolled up paper out of the side pocket of his backpack and swatted Elliot in the chest with it, waiting anxiously as Elliot grabbed and unfurled it.

"You've gotta be shitting me," Elliot groaned, reading the headline. He nudged Olivia to get her attention and read, "Mother and Brother of Local Football Hero Injured in Wreck on Broadway." He huffed and slapped the paper against the nearest locker. "Shit!"

Olivia reached over and pulled the paper from between Elliot's palm and the metal locker, and flicked it before scanning the article. "Mentions them by name, what hospital...oh. Oh, no."

"What?" Elliot breathed.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard as she spoke. "They, um, they…" she handed the paper back to him with a shaking hand. "They're asking anyone with information on the man she hit to call the paper...or the police."

"They what?" With wide eyes and a pounding heart, he tore the paper from her and looked down at it. "Great! So now people think my mom's not only crazy but a fucking killer! This is...this isn't fucking fair!" He turned and punched the locker to his left, making a large dent in the door, rage winning the battle of his emotions.

Olivia ran her hands over his shoulders and down his back, shooting a look at Cassidy that seemed to say, _look what you did._

"I didn't…" Brian cleared his throat, uncomfortable and apologetic. "I didn't mean to piss you off, man. I honestly thought you knew. I thought that reporter talked to you guys."

"Well," Elliot fumed, "He didn't. None of us knew this was happening," he waved the newspaper around. He tugged at the jacket of his uniform for a moment, and then finally turned around and pulled Olivia closer to him. "I'm okay, I promise. I'm...I'm calm."

She nodded, and then sighed and dropped her head to his shoulder. "It'll blow over, worse things happen all the time in this city, people are gonna forget all about this."

"She's right," Cassidy chirped. "Sorry, again, man. I swear, I thought you gave them permission to run it. I mean, even Benson's mentioned in the article, so I…"

"What?" Olivia spat, her head popping up from Elliot's shoulder quickly.

More confused and concerned now, Elliot quickly read the article and then, as his eyes landed on the words, he smiled. "Elliot Stabler and his girlfriend, National Merit Scholar Olivia Benson, were seen leaving Holy Cross Catholic High School yesterday afternoon, shortly after the crash occurred." He turned to look at her, his smile wider. "Not exactly how I'd imagined us ending up on the front page." He kissed her quickly, but dropped his voice to a bare whisper when she didn't look any less terrified. "Relax, this is a local paper, hardly anyone gets it. And like you said, something more important is happening, somewhere, right now."

"Cassidy did," Olivia told him, biting her lip. She inhaled and then shook her head, letting go of her momentary embarrassment. "I couldn't care less what they said about me, but your mother...your family…"

"I'll call my dad," he interjected. "Give him this reporter's name, see how he knows so much and why it…" he waved the folded paper. "Why it became...this!" He shook his head. "My mother didn't kill anyone." He moved back, slamming his head into the locker behind him, his eyes closed, his jaw tight. "At least, I...I hope to God she didn't."

Olivia rested her hands on his shoulders again, and as tenderly as she could, she said, "I'm sure your father would have said something to you. He told you they couldn't find anyone…"

The bell rang and cut their conversation short, and without relaxing at all, or so it seemed, Elliot grabbed her hand and pulled her into the nearby classroom, just as a student in the hall yelled, "What the hell happened to my locker?"

Elliot snickered as he caught Olivia's eyes, and he took a deep breath as he sat in his seat. He dropped the pile of books to his desk and then lifted the ones belonging to Olivia again. "I, uh...I don't see Father Michael." He looked around. "Or the TV cart." He set her things down in front of her, letting his fingers graze her cheek on their way back to his space.

"Oh, thank God," Olivia chuckled. "El, are you okay?"Her eyes fixed on his. "I know that...that was a lot to take in, out there. But I'm here, right here with you, and we'll figure out how the story got out. Cassidy was the only one who even mentioned it, so...maybe no one else knows anything."

Elliot nodded, pulling once on his plaid tie. "Yeah, the odds that anyone else even read that article are slim. Even...even if they did, nothing we can do about it, right? Just have to ride out this wave and hope we don't get pulled under."

Olivia nodded at him, and then she smiled. "That was poetic. You're not as bad as you think." She shot him a wink.

"Nah, it's just that you're rubbing off on on me," he said, winking back.

A throat cleared at the front of the room, garnering their attention, and a tall, slender man in a black suit stood staring at the students. "Good morning class," he said, and he turned his head, aiming one ear at the group, expectantly.

The students looked at each other, both out of humor and worry, before giving a moderately synchronized, "Good morning…" followed by an out of synch chorus of "ums" "sirs" and "whoever you ares."

The man laughed. "Right, sorry. Should've introduced myself first." He turned sharply, picked up a small piece of chalk, and wrote his name in large letters on the blackboard. He turned back, his eyes glinting a bit. "Mister...yes, Mister, not Father. Well, no, I am a father, I have children, but I am not a priest. I'm their father, but not your Father, so it's mister."

Olivia raised one brow and smirked at Elliot. "Is this guy for real?" she whispered.

He shrugged as he chuckled, but then blew her a kiss and jutted his chin forward, telling her to pay attention.

"Mister Bradley," the man said, clearing his throat loudly. "I'm going to tell you a little about me before I ask to hear a little about you." He put the chalk down on the ledge of the board, and then he took a few steps toward the class. "I studied at NYU, I have a bachelor's degree in political science, a master's in justice studies, and a _Juris Doctor_ ," he said in a lame French accent, licking his lips arrogantly. When no one seemed impressed, he smoothed out his tie and cleared his throat again. "That means I'm a lawyer. I am, currently, a criminal prosecutor in this fine city, and no, I will not tell you how much I make."

A hand shot into the air, and a deep voice asked, "If you're a lawyer, why are you here? You get fired?"

There were a few laughs, but Bradley simply smiled and shook his head. "No,no, I assure you...I am only here until the end of the year, while the city reviews my nomination."

"Nomination for what?" another voice called out.

"Um, please, raise your hand if you have a question or statement," Bradley said, "But to answer...I have been nominated to the state Supreme Court, isn't that exciting?" He clapped his hands together, but upon seeing the white-faced reactions of the students, he grinned. "I'm not a judge yet, no reason to look so scared, all of you." He laughed to himself, and then blathered on about the chapter of the text they'd be picking up on, and facts about the Russian Revolution.

Elliot groaned as he flipped open his text book, suddenly missing Father Michael and his Bible toons. He looked over at Olivia, expecting to see her taking down notes and hanging onto every word the new teacher said, but he was surprised to see her finishing Danny's comic. With a small smile, he picked up his own pen and began writing notes eagerly, taking them for her as well, pushing thoughts of the newspaper article, the car accident, and what might happen to his mother to the back of his mind.

He darted his eyes from his notebook to his girlfriend and back again, but when Bradley stopped talking, he stopped writing, and his eyes landed on Olivia. He took a breath and let it out slowly, promising himself that he would find a way to prove to her that she really was part of his family.

He just wasn't counting on someone from her's trying to stop him.

 **A/N: What does that mean!?**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: "When I was eight and the teacher said to write a letter to our future self, I wrote my own eulogy because I didn't see a future ahead of me." Deon Blake, age 12, slam poem, "What This Little Boy is Made of."**

 **DISCLAIMER: Credit for inspiration and original creation goes to Dick Wolf. This version of the characters, events, and written story belongs to me. ::Evil laugh::**

"In preparation for the writing portion of our state testing," Miss Brenner began, her heels clicking as she walked between aisles of desks and passed out stapled packets, "I have assigned all of you one word on which to base either a poem, short story, or essay." She stopped, turned, clicked her heels together, and walked in the opposite direction. "The word is 'eyes,' and may be used in any context you see fit."

Olivia looked at Elliot, sitting at the desk beside her, and whispered, "Eyes," as she made an irritated face.

"Oh, I already told you that I could write award-winning poetry about your eyes," he chuckled back to her. "I'm finally gonna get an A out of Brenner!"

Brenner moved to the next row of desks. "You will be timed, and you will be reading your work to the rest of the class." She turned again, folded the remaining packets in her arms, and eyed her students. "In your packets, you will find a rating and scoring sheet for every student in this class, so you will be commenting on each piece of written work you hear. Score it from one to five in each of the four categories: creativity, originality, effectiveness, and syntax and grammar. Personal comments are to be written in the given space, you will not score or comment on your own work." She looked around and sighed at the stunned faces of her students. "And yes, this counts as a grade." She looked at the clock, watching the red second hand move. "You will have fifteen minutes to write...starting...now." She nodded firmly, and as she looked around the room to make sure everyone was set to work, she made her way over to her desk, her Bohemian skirt flowing as she moved.

The class was deadly silent, except for the sounds of pens and pencils dragging along notebooks and desks. The squeak of an eraser broke through every so often, along with a muffled curse in a foreign language as a student or two made a mistake or lost a thought.

"Five minute warning," Brenner called, and then she blew sharply to get her frizzy curls out of her eyes.

Pencils moved faster, Spanish and French versions of cuss words flew in harsh whispers at a more rapid pace, and an orchestra of foot taps and pen clicks began to crescendo.

Brenner smiled, pushed her large-framed glasses up higher on her nose, and put down her book as she stood up. "Three...two...one...time is up! Pens down." She held up both hands to quiet the moans of protest and admissions of relief, and then folded her hands as she strolled to the middle of the classroom. "We will start at the beginning, so everyone on page one of your packet, and Miss Aldridge, please stand and read your work."

Natalie Aldridge read a short story about a woman who purposely drops acid in her eyes to blind herself to the injustice in the world. Steven Anderson read an essay on genetics and which genes determine human eye color. Benjamin Applebee read his own essay, based on research done for his science project, about how color is seen differently by people with green eyes versus brown or blue.

Elliot eyes Olivia as Marjorie Balton read a poem about her ex-boyfriend's compassion not even filling the eye of a needle, and then he smiled. "Knock 'em dead, Benson," he whispered, hearing the teacher call her.

Brenner grinned at Olivia as the girl stood up. "Poem, story, or essay, Miss Benson?"

"Um...poem," Olivia said timidly. She took a deep breath, the notebook in her hands shaking a bit, and then she looked at Elliot. She noticed her trembling stopped, and she nodded at him. "So, um, the word was 'eyes," she reminded her class. She cleared her throat, attempted to swallow the nauseousness she felt, and began to read the words she'd written on the page.

 _Your wild eyes, your wild lies, no compromise, don't apologize._

 _I recognize you're in disguise, but realize it's my demise._

 _You criticize and demonize, it's no surprise._

 _You glamorize and hypnotize, and terrorize, and ostracize, and demoralize, but I criminalize and compartmentalize to socialize and stabilize._

 _You legitimize and trivialize, but I am wise to your guise._

 _My cries materialize as the sunrise dies, you can't sympathize._

 _I despise the butterflies that sterilize my tries to vocalize how you pulverize._

 _If I can't mobilize, who'll memorialize when I vaporize?_

She bit her lip, swept a bit of hair behind her left ear nervously, and blinked as her class remained silent. "So...um...yeah, okay." She sat down immediately and folded her hands on top of her notebook.

A soft clap began at the back of the room, a few more students joined in, and within moments, the room was filled with applause, including the whistles from Elliot and a shout of "Brava," from the teacher. She smiled shyly, sunk lower in her seat, and sent a proud glance in Elliot's direction.

As the class quieted, he blew her a kiss, and then winked at her.

Brenner looked around, then, and said, "Well, since Miss Cabot has been in the bathroom for almost forty-nine minutes, I suppose it's your turn, Mister Cassidy."

Brian scoffed. "I can't follow that," he griped. "You can't expect any of us to follow that." He saw the way Brenner was looking at him and he rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said, standing glumly. He picked up his torn paper and read, in a monotonous voice, "E is for echo. Y is for yo-yo. E is also for Eggo. S this poem is so-so."

Brenner stared blankly at Cassidy as only two students clapped. "When I said this was for a grade, Mister Cassidy, I meant in this class, not kindergarten phonics." She sighed and gestured for him to have a seat. "We only have time for one more student today, the rest of you will read your work tomorrow, so you must bring your writing and your packets back to class. Volunteers?"

A pretty redheaded girl raised her hand, and so did Elliot, who seemed rather eager to read his poem only for Olivia. He straightened up and tried to catch Brenner's attention.

"Mister Stabler," Brenner said, impressed. "Let's hear it. Story, essay, or…"

"Poem," Elliot said, standing beside his desk. He licked his lips and took one last look at his notebook before turning his attention toward Olivia. He held her intense gaze as, from memory, he spoke.

 _The deepest brown, chocolate moons, filled with passion burning as the sun._

 _She blinks and it's a camera lens, immortalizing moments one by one._

 _Feather lashes tickle my cheeks as I press my lips to hers._

 _Curtain lids roll up again, and a miracle occurs._

 _Golden droplets speckle through curves of mahogany._

 _Echoes of trust and truth and sincerest honesty._

 _Her thoughts, dreams, and what she feels are never a surprise._

 _I never have to ask her, it's all there in her eyes._

Olivia couldn't hear the spattering of applause, or anything else, as she stared completely transfixed at Elliot. When she remembered how to breathe, she realized the bell had rung, class was over, students were filing out, and Elliot had her books and his hooked under his arm as usual. He was staring back at her, grinning smugly as he held out his free hand to her. She dropped hers into his palm and spoke. "That...your poem was…"

"True," he interrupted, pulling her to her feet. He pulled her closer, kissed her softly, and whispered, "I told you...you bring out the romantic poet in me. And, uh, a lot of other things." He chuckled as he tugged her toward the door. "You finish Danny's comic?"

"Yeah, I did," she nodded, intertwining their fingers as they walked down the hall. "I took your advice," she said, nudging him. "I wrote myself into the story."

"Really?" he asked excitedly. "I can't wait to see what you…"

"Elliot," a chipper voice called, and when his head turned, the girl grinned. "Nice poem." She eyed Olivia. "Could have picked a better topic, though."

Rolling his eyes, he towed Olivia further into him, kissed her once, and spoke again. "Kathy, You're not even in our English class, so how did you…"

"I was in the hallway," Kathy cut him off, twisting a curl of her blonde ponytail between her fingers. "I was waiting. For you, actually."

"Well, what do you want?" Elliot asked, annoyance clear in his words. His grip on Olivia tightened. "We have to get going, here, and neither of us…"

"My parents are having this party," Kathy interrupted again. "Upstate at our lake house." She held out a blue envelope. "It's semi-formal, so wear a suit, but not a tux, and my dress is yellow, so maybe your tie could be…"

Elliot closed his eyes, obviously disturbed, and shook his head. "Just...wait a minute," he spoke. He opened his eyes and let out a huff, and then said, "First off, I really don't care what color your dress is, okay?" He looked from the envelope to the stack of books in his hand and realized the only way to look at the invitation was to let go of Olivia, which he refused to do. He figured out another way and looked at Olivia. "Babe, could you, uh...take that?"

Olivia reached for the blue envelope despite the glare Kathy was giving her. She slid the formal-looking card out and held it between them, reading it along with Elliot. "Saturday," she shrugged. "But whatever shall we wear?" she asked sarcastically.

Elliot grinned, and then kissed Olivia's cheek. "We can probably go to Clothing Line after school tomorrow. I have money leftover from Christmas, and you have the money you won from your poem. We could spring for a suit and a dress, couple new pairs of shoes, huh?" He shrugged. "I wouldn't mind showing you off in front of…"

"Excuse me," Kathy giggled, squinting. "Sorry, did you misunderstand? Elliot, you're invited, Benson...is not."

"Right, but I have a 'plus-one,' it says so right there on the invitation." He smirked slyly at her, his way of saying she would never get what she wanted from him. "Tell your parents we will be there, thanks!" He turned, with Olivia in his hold, and shook his head as he walked away from Kathy, laughing. "She's tenacious, I'll give her that. Stupid and annoying, but tenacious."

Olivia chuckled, pulling him in the direction of her locker, and then said, "You actually want to go to this thing?" She held up the invitation and shook her head with another laugh as she twisted the combination on her lock.

"Well, yeah, I mean," he leaned against the lockers, "We get to mingle with people who have more money than we will ever see in our lives, dance, eat a meal that probably costs more than my dad makes in a year, and to top it off, I get to spend a night completely lost in you...right in front of Kathy Malone, who will finally get it through her head that I am not, and never will be, interested in her...because I have the most perfect woman in the world already, and am never giving her up."

Olivia shut her locker and sniffled, looping her messenger bag over her shoulder. She took her books from Elliot and dropped them into the sack, and then looked up at him, sniffling again. "Second time you made me cry, today," she told him.

"Hey, as long as those are tears of joy and devotion," he shrugged, and he wiped a tear off of her cheek with his thumb. He cupped the side of her face, then, and brought her closer to him, slowly. "I love you," he whispered, and then kissed her softly. A throat cleared beside them, and they turned, hoping it wasn't a teacher or their headmaster. "Detective Cragen," Elliot said, stiffening.

Cragen nodded and offered a smile. "Sorry to keep surprising the two of you like this, but...this is a time-sensitive matter. I need you to come with me, someone's waiting in the conference room for you."

Olivia curled herself into Elliot. "We need to go to the…"

"I will give you a ride to the hospital when we're done," Cragen interjected. "This won't take long. We just need to discuss what's happening next week, how we're going to handle…"

"Next week?" Olivia asked, interrupting. "What's next week?"

Cragen blinked. "You don't...you don't remember? The trial, your mother is on the last leg of her…"

"Oh, my God," Olivia breathed. "God, with the accident and everything with that man who we thought was…"

"Shh," Elliot hushed, brushing his thumb over her lips. He turned to Cragen. "It's a slam-dunk, right? All the evidence against her mother is enough to…"

Cragen made a face. "Well, that's why we need to sit and talk," he said. "I have someone here who, after she talks to you, may have a backup plan if, for some reason, we think Serena's defense can swing."

Olivia took a breath. "Who?"

Cragen looked at her. "You already know who it is, don't you, Olivia?" He rested a hand on her shoulder. "Simone Bryce."

 **A/N: We meet Simone?! And what is Olivia's comic book alter ego? Do they go to Kathy's party? Hmm.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: "We come to our own defense when we come into our own and only when we're allowed, by God, to do so." Deon Blake, age 12, slam poem, "What This Little Boy is Made of."**

 **DISCLAIMER: Credit for inspiration and original creation goes to Dick Wolf. This version of the characters, events, and written story belongs to me. ::Evil laugh::**

Olivia hadn't said a word in over twenty minutes. She just kept staring at the photos on the table and scrawling in her notebook.

Elliot tried unsuccessfully to get her to talk, or grunt, or make some sort of human noise. When he gave up, he looked down, and he smiled. The sketches were of her, in a black and grey costume, with a flowing cape and eye mask. There was a large, block-letter B on her chest and the levels of her strength and power varied from picture to picture.

"Olivia," Cragen spoke, tapping on the table in front of her to get her attention, "Honey, please. We need to…"

"I don't have anything to say," she interrupted, her pencil still moving effortlessly across the page, her head bowed in concentration.

"Sweetheart," Simone Bryce began, hoping her soft voice didn't fall on deaf ears. "I'm sorry you have to go through this, and I know that…"

"This is not what I need, right now, okay?" For the first time since the meeting started, Olivia looked up and dropped her pencil. "I have finals! My boyfriend's brother and mother are in the hospital! There is too much going on in my life for you to throw this at me!"

"Ignoring it won't make it go away, Olivia," Simone told her. She reached out a skinny hand and stopped Olivia from picking up her pencil again. "You have to face this head on, sweetie, and I'm going to do my best to help you with it all."

Olivia blinked and felt Elliot's hand slide over her stockinged knee under the table. His touch seemed to calm her and she whispered. "What am I gonna do, El?" She sniffled and looked up at him. "If she comes back, takes me away from…" she shook her head.

"That's what Miss Bryce is here to prevent," he told her, and he used the hand that wasn't gripping her knee to wipe her eyes. "Hear her out."

Simone nodded her thanks at Elliot and then looked at Olivia again. "Honey, we have a lot of evidence here, years of neglect and abuse and circumstances that are compelling enough to convince a judge that...even if she's been in treatment...she's an unfit mother. I'm sure, with your testimony, the Stablers will be…"

"Woah, what?" Olivia barked. "Testimony? No. No way!" She flailed her arms and stood up fast, sweeping her notebook and binder into her arms.

"Calm down," Elliot whispered, rising quickly and holding her still. "Liv, baby, relax."

"No, no, no," she spat, shaking her head frantically. "She'll kill me! You don't know, if I say anything to anyone…" her head fell as she gasped. "I'm dead anyway! I told you, and the cops, and this lady!" She threw a hand in Bryce's direction. "She was arrested and thrown in that hellhole because of me! As soon as she gets me alone, I'm a goner!"

Elliot shook his head. "I told you, I promised you, no one is ever gonna hurt you again. Not her, not anyone." He wrapped her in his arms and looked at Cragen. "Her testimony...can it be a written statement? Or, um, what if we tape it? Show a video to…"

Bryce's eyes widened. She turned to look at Cragen. "She wouldn't even need to be in the room. This could be the answer to…"

Cragen held up a hand. "I'll set up a time with both lawyers, we will record her entire testimony." He looked at Olivia, who was sobbing into Elliot's chest, and his heart broke for her. He caught Elliot's eyes, then, and an understanding passed between them.

Cragen knew there was nothing that could ever come between these two kids, and they would do anything to protect and defend each other. He cleared his throat and said, "I have some things to discuss with Simone, here, but, uh, your father is waiting outside for you. Both of you."

Elliot nodded and then kissed Olivia's forehead. He took her hand in his and pulled her toward the door and pushed it open, leading her out into the hallway to meet his father. "Hey, Pop," he said, his arms still curled around Olivia.

Joe Stabler smiled at them and said, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, uh, it will be," Elliot said, hearing Olivia's breathing calm and sniffles stop. "Oh, by the way, you and your buddies on the force need to find a guy named Steven Grading." He huffed and shook his head. "Reporter for the…"

"I already talked to him," Joe interrupted. "Who do you think gave him the…"

"What?" Elliot yelled, and as they walked out of the building, he grabbed his father's arm, jostling Olivia, who was still clasped in his other hand. "Dad, you gave that bastard the right to…"

"Watch your language!" Joe shouted back, yanking his arm away from his son. He tugged harshly on his coat and said, "The unit thought it would give us leads! We need to find the man your mother hit! Find out if he's alive or dead!"

Elliot was stunned, he dropped Olivia's hand, he was hurt. "That article makes Mom look like…"

"Exactly what she is!" Hatred was clear in the tone of Joe's voice, the look in his eyes, and the way he pointed his finger at his son. His nostrils flared and his heavy breath was the only sound cutting the tense silence as he stared at Elliot. "Let's go," he mumbled, and he walked toward his car, taking clomping steps and brooding the whole way.

Wordlessly, Elliot grabbed Olivia's hand again, cleared his throat, and kept the urge to cry at bay. He tugged lightly, gently, coaxing her to follow along.

Olivia pushed down the rising fear, the emerging memories of her mother that had been sparked by the expression on Joe Stabler's face and the fire in his eyes. She stayed quiet as she walked with Elliot and got into the back seat of the Stabler station wagon, and she focused on the window, unable to look at either of the other people in the car.

"What's her name?" Danny asked with an excited bounce. Olivia has handed him the new comic as soon as she walked into his room.

She took a breath. "She, uh, she's The Bookworm." Her voice was dry and shaky, having been silent the whole way to the hospital. "She can read an entire book in minutes, and whatever she's read she can become, like…" she reached out and flipped a page of the book. "Here, she reads a book on ironworking and that's how she…"

"Bends the bars to get Quantum out of the cage!" Danny exclaimed. "So what if she read another comic book, like Superman?"

Olivia smiled and tapped his nose. "Well, then she'd have all the same powers as Superman." She tilted her head and grinned. "Bookworm knows that knowledge and intelligence are the most important weapons someone can have, and no one…" she leaned closer, "No one at all, can ever take them away from you."

Danny leaned forward and kissed Olivia's cheek. "She's you, right?" He looked at her with so much love in his little eyes. "I was hoping I'd meet you. Well, as a hero." He looked down and turned the handmade book around in his hands. "This is the best one. My favorite so far."

Olivia brushes Danny's hair back, unaware that Elliot was watching, listening, and falling a little more in love with her.

Elliot rose out of his chair and kneeled down beside her, on the floor by Danny's bed, and he grabbed both of her hands.

She turned sharply, looking down at him. He looked back up at her with a deep pain in his eyes, his bottom lip quivering slightly, and she pulled him closer.

He buried his head against her stomach, and he let out a single sob when he felt her wrap herself around him. He didn't cry long at all, knowing his little brother was there, watching, and he nuzzled against Olivia playfully to change the mood. He heard her laugh and Danny chuckle at them, and then he took a deep breath and popped upright. "You're coming home today, buddy," he said, poking his brother's belly.

Danny giggles and curled himself up to stop the tickling, and said, "I know! The doctor told me. Liv's still staying with us, right?"

Elliot nodded. "Yeah, pal, she, uh...she's gonna be with us for a long time." He turned and looked up at her again as he whispered. "I'm making sure of that."

She opened her mouth but was prevented from speaking by the door opening and a few loud people walking in. "Danny, come on, kid," Joe Stabler spat, waving his hand. "Get up, get dressed, you're…"

"What happened?" Elliot asked, standing up fast.

Joe shook his head and looked at his son. "You and Olivia, take your brother, you're gonna get a ride home from Don." He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and flipped it open. "Here," he handed Elliot a few twenty-dollar bills. "Order something for dinner, and all of you better chip in to clean and…"

"What's going on?" Elliot asked, and then turned his head. "DJ, buddy, don't forget your hat and coat. On and zipped, hear me?" He smiled at his brother's answer and then looked back at his dad. "What's wrong?"

"I asked the doctor if we could take Mom home, too," Joe rubbed his forehead. "He said he needed to run a few tests before making the decision, and when we got to her room…" he exhaled slowly and ran a hand down his face.

"Dad, come on," Elliot prodded. "Just tell us. Is there something wrong with Mom?"

"That's the thing," Joe said. "I don't know. She…" he shrugged and blew out a hard breath. "She's gone. Bed was empty." He slapped Elliot on the shoulder. "I'll call you when I find her."

They watched Joe leave and saw Don Cragen beyond the door, waiting for them. Elliot looked down at Olivia. "You know, uh, maybe one of my sisters has a dress you can borrow, and I can always wear one of my dad's or Owen's…"

"What are you talking about?" Olivia squinted and folded her arms.

Elliot kisses her lips once. "With all of this...I don't think we're gonna be able to go shopping tomorrow, we'll have to watch DJ, and trust me, taking him anywhere near a store is…"

"You...you still want to go that party?" She tilted her head. "With everything that's happening, right now?"

"Baby," he sighed. "I think, by Saturday, we're definitely gonna need a party."

 **A/N: Where's Bernie? And that party? It's eventful.**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: "It isn't any child's wish to die, especially not mine, but it might be worth it if only to see the look on your face when you realize what you've done." Kenny Bligs, age 14, "A Letter to my Father."**

 **DISCLAIMER: Credit for inspiration and original creation goes to Dick Wolf. This version of the characters, events, and written story belongs to me. ::Evil laugh::**

"We shouldn't be here," Olivia whispered, one hand gripping a punch cup so tightly her knuckles had turned white. "Well, I shouldn't be. I…" she paused, looked around the room, and sighed glumly. "I don't belong here." She used her free hand to tug awkwardly at the hem of her dress, as if trying to make it longer, larger, in an attempt to hide beneath the satin and lace.

Elliot swatter her hands away from the violet fabric, clicking his tongue. "Stop that, you look beautiful," he told her, and he held her gaze for a moment when she looked up at him. "So beautiful." He kissed her softly. "As for us...we don't fit in with this crowd, and thank God for that." He sneered and jutted his chin toward the side table, spying two men in suits with one hand in a pocket and the other holding a glass of something too dark to be the punch. "Those guys...probably talking about stocks and CNN, or comparing stories about who's having the more torrid affair." He chuckled. "Not the life I want, not the life we're gonna have."

"You keep saying that," she said, lifting her glass to her lips and shaking her head. "You're gonna break your own…"

"Hey," he narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure, okay? People keep trying to tell me, ya know, I'm too young, there'll be a million other girls, but eff that noise, Liv. There's only you, there's only us."

She raised a brow at him. "No day but today?" she teased, quoting the only musical he could admit he liked.

Without any hesitation, he said, "Damn right," and kissed her again. He smiled, then, and took her hand, linking their fingers. "She still staring?"

Olivia hummed as she nodded. "Well, she's practically drooling over you, but looking at me like she's trying to make my head explode with her mind."

"Nah," he laughed. "The only one in the room with the brain power to have any kind of telekinetic ability is you." He smirked. "Wanna see if it works? I mean, this party could use a little excitement, see if you can make her fly."

She laughed at him, sipping her punch again. "Goofball," she muttered, dropping her head to his.

He kissed her forehead and then nudged her upright. "Let's go mingle with the money, huh? And those thousand-dollar croutons over there look disgusting, but I feel like eating ten of them just to say I did."

She rolled her eyes. "They're not croutons," she chided. "Their canopies, and you won't like them. They're topped with caviar and lox."

He made an inquisitive face.

"You and raw fish?" she questioned, and then she shook her head and laughed. "Who do you want to mingle with, exactly? We don't know anyone here, other than Princess Kathy's minions from school."

Elliot pulled her with him as he walked, weaving between chatting groups of people. "I thought I saw someone over here before," he said, "My dad's boss, I met him a few times. I think Isaw him over by the bar. Grey suit, red tie."

"Um...maybe?" she tried to peer over and between people's heads. "Why would he be here?"

"Kathy's father," Elliot said dismissively. "He likes to rub elbows with all the big guns. Police chiefs, the mayor, lawyers, other doctors," he scoffed. "Pretentious, right? But if it is him, we should say hi. It might be a good place to start at a party like this, ya know." He gave her a harder yank, and when she hit into him, he looped his arm around her and kissed her cheek.

She blushed, noticing the man that Elliot had been talking about was now in front of them, smiling.

"Hello, there," the man said, passing his drink to his right hand and holding out his left. "Stabler's boy, am I right? Edward?"

"Elliot," he corrected, shaking the man's hand. "Captain Dullaney," he said with a smile, "This is…"

"Olivia Benson," the man said, offering his hand now to her. "Stabler's told me all about you, young lady. And I want you to know, my unit is doing everything they can to find him."

"Sorry, who?" Her brows knitted together and her head tilted a bit. She slipped her hand away from his and eyed Elliot for a beat before returning her attention to Dullaney. "Who are you trying to find?"

"Well, uh," Dullaney stammered, scratching his head. "I thought he might've mentioned this to you, with the upcoming trial. We, uh, we reopened your mother's case."

Olivia's eyes widened. "What?" she gasped, her hand shooting to her chest. "Wow, um, why? I mean, obviously, it hasn't mattered much, why now? Why are you…"

"Calm down," Elliot whispered, his arm tightening around her. He brushed her hair back and said, "I didn't know anything about this, either, so please, just breathe." He cleared his throat and straightened up, then turned back toward his dad's boss. "Um, Sir, who put…"

"Your father," Dullaney said with a pointing and wagging finger, "And his partner, of course. They made it their mission. Said something about you both needing answers, and Olivia was very upset that the, uh, incident earlier this year didn't end with her knowing anything more than…"

"What does this have to do with my mother's trial?" Olivia interrupted. She shook her head and let out a soft, bitter laugh. "I told him... I told everyone...I can't deal with this. I can't handle any of this." She brought her hands up to the sides of her head and shook her head again.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Dullaney spoke softly, rubbing two fingers of his drink-laden hand across his forehead. "Cragen and Stabler...they would rather have all the loose ends of this tied up, so when they put your mother on the stand, she can't justify her drinking, her years of abuse...so she can't use not knowing if he's coming after, or if she'll run into him at the market her as an excuse anymore."

"She has a million other reasons," Olivia scoffed. "I look like him, I am a constant reminder of the worst night of her life, I'm too smart for my own good, I'm not obedient enough, I'm too outspoken, the day ends in Y," she rattled off quickly, unaware there were tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. She swallowed hard and bit her lip. "He's just the exuse she uses when she can't blame me." She sniffled, then, realizing she'd been crying. "Excuse me," she breathed, and pulled away from Elliot, turned, and rushed through the throng toward a side door.

"Dang it," Elliot hissed, making moves to run after her. "Thanks!" he called back to Captain Dullaney, weaving in the same wonky pattern that Olivia had gone. He was almost to the door, he could see her small frame through the glass, when a tall, young woman stepped in front of him. He rolled his eyes and tried to push by her.

"Come to your senses, have you?" Kathy asked with a smug smile. "I saw her leave. Means you're free to come with me and meet…"

"Move," he spat harshly, trying to push her back with his elbow, afraid touching her with his hands would lead to her trying to neck with him or something worse. "I need to…"

"You need to let her go," Kathy interrupted. "I told my parents you'd be here, they're very eager to talk to you before the social, they won't let me go with you unless…"

"I'm not going with you!" he yelled, and he knew the people just beside him had turned their heads. "I have a girlfriend! If I even decide to go to that stupid dance, I am gonna go with Olivia, okay? Not you! Now, please, get out of my way, and stop trying to come between me and her! It's really pathetic!" He shoved past her, finally punching open the glass doors.

Kathy began to fume, her eyes narrow and her lips pursed, and she moved to follow him, but the irritated faces of her parents stopped her from grabbing at Elliot, and all she could do was sigh, staring beyond the glass as he pulled the brunette she despised into his arms. She cringed slightly as he kissed her softly, and turned away from them, unable to take any more embarrassment.

Elliot smirked, watching back as Kathy's parents led her away from the center floor, knowing that he'd at least convinced them he had no interest in their daughter. With a deep breath, he looked back at Olivia. "I'm sorry, I didn't…"

"It's okay," she said, stopping him. "None of this...none of this is your fault."

"Well, it's not yours either," he said, brushing her hair behind her ear. He smiled, seeing the light in her eyes shine a bit brighter. "I hope Cragen and my dad do find your father," he said. "I need to thank him. He brought you into this world." He smiled just a bit more broadly.

"Funny," she huffed, "I want to kill him for that."

Elliot shook his head, his smile fading. He ran one hand down his lavender tie, the other down the side of her dress, the texture of the beaded lace scraping against his skin. "You have no idea...how grateful I am for you. What we've been through together...for years...you…" his voice broke. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You're my best friend, my...soulmate. I would be either dead or a million miles away if you weren't in my life. You're the only thing that's ever kept me sane. You are a Godsend, an angel. My angel, and I swear on my life...one of these days, Olivia Benson, I'm gonna convince you of that." He brought both of his hands up and cupped her face with them. "I want to look into that man's eyes and tell him that he had a hand in giving life to my reason for living, and I want to fucking thank him." He let the corners of his mouth turn up again. "After I thank him, then I'll kill him. Okay?"

She laughed, then, a true and hearty laugh, and nodded. "Watch your language," she added, an afterthought. And when she noticed him moving in to kiss her, her heart thumped hard against her chest. There was something different in his eyes, something more powerful in the way he looked at her. His lips touched hers and there was pure heat, a warmth that ran through every cell in her body, reaching the deepest part of her.

He felt it, too, only he was sure it was all emanating from her, and he only gave back what he was being given. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and he whispered something against her lips that he wasn't quite convinced had been English.

"I am, huh?" she replied, her hands wrapping around his wrists as she held his gaze, and suddenly the crowd of people who had more money and power than she thought possible didn't seem to matter.

He nodded, knowing now that he'd said _angelus meus es tu._ "You are my angel, Liv, and, God, I like to think I'm yours."

"You are," she heard herself whisper, her voice acting without permission. She took a breath and looked up at him again, her smile now less bitter and more genuine. "You really are. And when you say things like...about our kids, a life together, I want that, you know I do. I just didn't want to let myself…"

"Believe me," he finished. He kissed her once, then looped an arm around her and moved to guide her back into the house, but they were stopped by Dullaney. "Sir," Elliot said politely.

"I know I've already put a bit of a damper on your evening," Dullaney said with a grim grin. "I don't mean to, but now,I...I have to make it a bit worse, I'm afraid. You two...you need to come with me."

Dullaney turned, and Olivia and Elliot followed almost obediaently as he led them through the spacious party room to get their coats. "What's wrong? Is this about her mother?"

"No," Dullaney sighed, and he held his hand out to Elliot, asking for their coat check tickets. "It's about yours."

 **A/N: What?**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: "A grown man's cold hands, makes plans, it pans, I withstand." Kenny Bligs, age 14, "A Letter to my Father."**

 **DISCLAIMER: Credit for inspiration and original creation goes to Dick Wolf. This version of the characters, events, and written story belongs to me. ::Evil laugh::**

Elliot stood by the cold white wall, his brother's suit jacket crumpled in a ball on the empty seat beside him, along with his tie and the shoes Olivia wore to the party they both now regretted going to at all. He had his dress shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows, arms folded, heavy stare directed at his father who was sitting at his desk. He felt her behind him, and before she could speak at all, he said, "Look at him. Business as usual. Carrying on like his wife isn't sitting in a cage across the hall."

Olivia held out a can of ginger ale to him, and then dropped her chin to his shoulder. "His coping mechanism. You have one, too." She brushed her fingers through his short hair and said, "You get lost in a book, or spend literal hours…"

"Kissing you," he whispered back to her, though he didn't look at her. He did take the can from her, pop it open, and take a long sip. "Thanks." He turned his head but kept his eyes on his father, and he kissed Olivia's forehead. "I may use certain things…and people...as a distraction, but when something like this…"

She kissed his lips, silencing him. "I know," she whispered, and rested her head fully on his shoulder.

He wrapped his right arm around her and sipped his soda with his left.

"What are you gonna do," Cragen asked his partner, his eyes shifting from the kids across the room to Joe. "You just gonna let them stand there and give you the evil eye all night, or are you gonna man up and tell them what happened?"

Joe Stabler sighed and flipped the page of the file he was reading. "I told him to go home an hour ago." He shook his head. "There are some things he needs to be left out of, he's a kid, Don." He shot a look over at Elliot and Olivia. "That's something they both need to get through their heads. They're just fucking...kids." He licked his lips. "They need to stay...they need to stay kids, Don."

Cragen rubbed one hand down his face and let out a soft scoff. "They haven't been kids in years, Joe! You can't keep them in the dark about this! They have a right to…" he lowered his voice and leaned over his desk. "Your son has a right to know what's going on with his family, why his mother is in a holding cell, why a public defender wants to talk to Olivia…"

"He has a right to go school dances and study for finals and go to a party without having a fucking police chief drag him out of it because his mother is wanted for questioning in the death of a homeless man!" Joe didn't realize he was shouting, but once he heard Elliot's voice spit out a foul word, he shut his eyes. "Damn it," he seethed, and then he finally laid eyes on his son. With remorse in every line of his face, he waved Elliot and Olivia over to him.

"Yeah," Elliot hissed, grabbing Olivia's hand and pulling her with him as he moved. "Now he wants to talk to us." He strode up to Joe's desk and dropped his soda to the desk. "So that's why we're here, because you found the guy mom hit with the car?"

Joe let out another deep, hard breath. "I didn't ask my captain to drag you out of that party," he told his son, looking him square in the eyes. "He did that on his own, I guess he thought it was necessary. Neither one of you needs to be here to…"

"Are they arresting her? Is she going to jail for this?" Elliot snapped, unaware he was squeezing Olivia's hand tighter with every word. "And what the hell do you think reopening Liv's mom's case is gonna accomplish? What are you gonna get that you don't already have?"

Joe chuckled and let the file in his hands drop to his desk. "You're gonna make one hell of a cop," he scratched at the stubble on his chin. "Answers. In order. They're questioning her, since she's the wife of a cop...IAB needs to be here, and there's an issue finding a rep at the moment. She might go to jail, it's a possibility, but a slim one. Treatment...would be the better option." He ignored the reddening of his son's face and his flaring nostrils. "Reopening Serena's case will be a security blanket for Olivia. You want her safe? We gotta cover our bases. We hope to gain more information, possibly an ID. A real one this time."

Elliot shook his head and tugged harder on Olivia. When she was as close as she could get, he dropped a kiss on her head and glared at his father. "Treatment," he whispered. A bit louder, he spoke. "What...what does that even mean? Treatment for what?"

Joe cleared his throat. "She's sick, El. You know she's sick and she's never gonna get better. What she has...there's no cure, okay? There's just...those damn pills. For the rest of her life." He scratched his chin again. "Now, it's convincing her that she's got a problem that's gonna be the tricky part. She fought tooth and nail against medication, only agreeing to take it because they threatened to take her away from her kids, away from...away from us."

"So, what, you keep her locked up like a lab rat until she breaks down and does something she doesn't want to do because you make a few empty threats?" Elliot gritted his teeth, narrowed his eyes, and leaned closer to his father. "What kind of treatment, Dad?"

"Therapy," Joe said with a slow blink. "Stronger pills and intense therapy. Inpatient for a few…"

"You're having her committed?" Elliot asked, now wide-eyed. "Because you really think it'll help, or because you know she won't be able to embarrass you anymore if she's in some...institution?"

"She almost killed Danny!" Joe shouted, rising.

"She almost killed me years ago!" Elliot yelled back. "Didn't seem too concerned with her mental stability, then, huh?" A small vein began to throb and pulse in the side of his neck, one in his forehead threatening to pop. "So, tell me, Detective Stabler, is it because this time she actually killed someone? This time you're in a higher rank, in the public eye? Or because you're passed off she hurt DJ, and you just didn't give a shit when it was me?"

Joe rose fast, raised his hand, but caught himself before he swung to strike. "Go home," he snarled. "Just go home."

Elliot laughed, an almost vile chuckle, as he stared into his father's eyes. "That's what I thought," he said, shaking his head. He shook his head again, disdainfully, and tugged on Olivia to get her to move with him. He grabbed her shoes and his jacket off the chair as he mumbled something under his breath.

Joe watched them leave, eyes stinging and face hot, and he sent his fist hurling downward into his desk. He realized he should've just told them truth.

 **A/N: Oh my!**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: "Most kids are afraid of the dark. Not me. It was in the night, in the dark, that I always felt free." Ryan Kwik, age 12. Untitled Poem**

 **DISCLAIMER: Credit for inspiration and original creation goes to Dick Wolf. This version of the characters, events, and written story belongs to me. ::Evil laugh::**

"What are you doing?" Olivia watched, her arms folded, as Elliot pulled clothes and books out of drawers and off shelves. "El, come on, what are you…?"

"What does it look like, Olivia?" He snapped at her. He'd never yelled at her before and he instantly regretted it, but he shook his head and threw more things into the duffel bag on his bed. "I can't do this anymore."

"You're fourteen," she said, yanking down on the tee shirt she'd stolen from one of Elliot's brothers. "Where are you gonna go, huh?"

He let out a bitter chuckle. "Anywhere but here," he fumed, "I'll be fifteen in a week." He tossed more of his stuff into the bag with a grunt, but stopped moving when he felt her hands on his shoulders. He closed his eyes, the anger giving way to the tears. He hung his head and tried to keep his sobs quiet, unwilling to let her head or see him cry.

Her voice was softer now, she squeezed his shoulders and said, "And who's gonna look out for DJ if you run away?" Another octave lower, another few decibels softer, cake the words, "What about me?"

He laughed then, turned and wiped his eyes, and spiraled his arms around her. "You're coming with me." He kissed her, and something was profoundly different from any other kiss they'd ever shared. The emotions were electric, felt down to their toes, their hearts beat the same staccato rhythm at the same frenzied pace. Her hands trembled as they clutched at his back, and he moved without even realizing, until he had her pressed up against the wall of his bedroom. "Wherever I go," he whispered softly, against her kissing lips, "You're coming with me."

She moaned, mumbled something he couldn't understand, and scraped his skin through his tee shirt lightly. She gasped when he moved his leg between hers, holding her between his body and the wall. Her pulse quickened, she dragged her hands down his back, but before she could palm over any lower, he pulled away, simply panting as he rest against her.

"Being at that party," he breathed, "Made me realize how fully fucked up our life is." He gritted his teeth. "All that money and privilege in one room, all those perfect fucking people with their perfect families and perfect jobs…" he shook his head. "Not fucking fair."

She tilted her head. He said _our life,_ not separating hers from his but unifying them, as if they were living it all together. She smiled, then, realizing that's exactly what they were doing. "We got dealt some pretty crappy cards, you and me, but you know we're a couple of sharks." She winked at him. "We've always got a way to win, don't we?"

"As long as...we're together, yeah," he kissed her sweetly, then, and he took a breath to calm himself down, only now fully acknowledging how worked up he'd gotten, and how ready he was to take things a bit too far with her.

She cupped his chin, holding his gaze. "You need to watch…"

"My language," he laughed. "I know." He looped his hand in hers and pulled her toward the bed, sat on the edge, and tugged her into his lap. "I hate him," he whispered.

"I hate him for what he's done to you," she spoke, "But at least you have moments where...I heard him, El, he's told you he loves you. He's told you he's proud of you, and he hasn't been drinking. He can't handle any of this either, and maybe he was just trying to…"

"Protect us," he finished, his eyes closed and head dropped against her. "It doesn't feel like that. It feels like he's…"

"I know what it feels like," she said, brushing back his hair over and over, caressing.

There was quiet, then, as the weight of their reality hit them. His mother was in a jail cell, Olivia's mother was in a rehab facility conjuring up ways to work back into her life, they both had father issues that seemed to work against them every step of the way. But yet they both somehow knew that they could get through it all, survive, as long as they had each other.

She turned and kissed his forehead, and then dropped her head to his. "Do you still want to leave?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, I do, but…" he sighed and held her tighter. "You were right. We can't leave DJ here." He laughed again and kissed her cheek. "We have to wait until he can at least ride his bike across the street by himself."

She laughed, too, and rolled her eyes as she kissed him softly. "Right," she said, knowing he'd calmed down enough to realize they'd never get out of Queens on their own. "We should...try to get some sleep. We have school tomorrow. And that meeting with Miss Bryce."

"She's gonna find you a way out of this," he told her. He kissed her again. "I promise, you won't have to go back to your mother, even if she doesn't end up behind bars for the things she's done, you won't have to…"

"Can we just go to bed?" Her voice had a hint of fear, a slight waver in it.

"You don't have to do that," he whispered, not letting her move out of his grasp. "Not with me." He brushed her hair back and looked into her eyes, and he noticed that there were emotions and secrets and memories in those brown eyes that shouldn't live in anyone, let alone an _almost_ -fifteen year old. "You don't have to put on a brave face and pretend everything is okay."

Her lower lip trembling, she moved back to him and let him guide her into his bed. Once she was flattened down and cuddled close to him, she let herself cry. It wasn't harsh or loud, it wasn't wracking sobs, but it was deep and remorseful. She twisted her hands in the fabric of his tee, mumbling an apology for getting it wet with her tears.

"Never, ever, apologize to me," he whispered, and he pressed a kiss to her temple. "Not about this." He closed his eyes and kissed the crown of her head, curling her further into him, but the slamming of the door broke them apart and they both shot up, wide eyed.

Olivia bit her lip when Joe Stabler's yelling carried up the stairs and into Elliot's room. She moved her eyes to the side to watch him, seeing the same emotions in him that he'd seen in her and feeling the same way about it. They really did get dealt some pretty shitty cards.

Elliot flinched when he heard another loud shout. He realized his father was on the phone, clearly angry with someone or something. "Wait," he said then, standing. "What?" He moved closer to his door and slowly opened it.

Joe shouted even louder, slamming what sounded like a metal drawer. "I don't fucking give a rat's ass if he's the goddamned son of Jesus and the Pope, Jack! You tell him I am, as of an hour ago, her legal guardian and there's not a damn fucking thing anyone can do about it!"

Elliot's eyes widened more and he turned to look at Olivia. "Did you hear…" he saw her nod. But before he could say anything else, or stop her, she had jumped off of the bed and bolted from the room, flying down the steps.

"Shit," he spat, running after her. When he finally caught up to her, he was stopped, dead in his tracks, frozen and staring at the slightly unbelievable sight before him. "Dad, what…"

"I told you," Joe said to his son, Olivia wrapped in his arms in a truly fatherly hug, "I was trying to protect you. Both of you." He sighed and ran his large hand down the back of Olivia's head as he felt her shake slightly. "I promised you, all of you, that I would be the father you needed, deserved," he pushed Olivia back a bit and smiled down at her. "Tonight, we added one more to the brood. Well, legally...not…" he looked at Elliot. "She's not your sister, now, or anything."

Still confused, Elliot moved closer and took Olivia from his father into his own arms. "What does that even mean?"

Joe exhaled and scratched the back of his head nervously. "The reason I wasn't handling things with your mother as fast as you would've liked...is because I was already knee deep in trying to find a way to keep Olivia from having to stand trial. Serena's lawyer had her taped testimony tossed, and she was going to be subpoenaed...but a friend of mine, a lawyer in Jersey...found a loophole. See, with the allegations stacked against her mother, and this was something we didn't even know…" he let out another breath as he dropped into the couch. He patted the seat beside him.

Elliot day and pulled Olivia into his lap, catching his father's slight smirk as he did it. "And?"

"And," Joe said as he looked at Olivia, "You know, sweetie, you were only allowed to stay with us because we were registered foster parents, you were technically a ward of the state while your mother was in that treatment facility." He saw her nod and then swallowed hard. "The reason for that, uh, which is what I found out this morning...is that as long as she's there, in that hospital, she doesn't have any parental control over you. At all. She had to forfeit all parental rights when she signed in, for the duration of her stay." He scratched his neck again and then slapped his hands down onto his thighs. "She's due for release Saturday, that's the day after tomorrow...I had every advocate and social worker I know, including Bryce, pull every string in the world and…"

"Hold on," Elliot said, holding up a hand. "You're not telling me…"

"I am," he said with a nod. "Until now, we were just, um, think of it like babysitting. But as of tonight, we...your mother and I...have full legal guardianship of her." He looked at Olivia again. "You." He tried to smile. "This is, legally, your home address. And...since you're a minor...there's no way in hell anyone can question you, force you into talking to anyone, for any reason...without our consent." He turned his head just slightly to look at Elliot. "And trust me, we are not consenting. They either resubmit her recorded testimony into evidence, or they don't have a case. Even if they try...it's too late. They can't take her anywhere now."

Elliot didn't even realize that he had tears running down from his wide-open eyes. He stared in shock at his father and he dropped his head to Olivia's. "Thank you," he whispered. "Dad, thank you. So much."

"She saved this family," Joe said softly. "I was just returning the favor." He smiled at his son and Olivia, and then said, "As for Mom, well...they're charging her, but only with reckless driving and fleeing the scene of an accident. Medical examiner confirmed the man she hit...was alive, he walked away from it with a few bumps and bruises, but died because of…" he couldn't bring his son and Olivia to the darkness he lived with, not yet. "Something else."

"So, what, is that, like, a fine? Probation?" Elliot sniffled and nuzzled against Olivia. "Misdemeanors, not felonies. They can sentence her for up to thirty days, but it's a first offense, because last time…" he sighed. "I was the only one who got hurt and it was just declared an accident, and she's the wife of a cop. So, what, they just gave her the max restitution?"

Joe nodded, furrowing his brow and wondering how Elliot had known all of that. "A few grand in fines, suspended license…and outpatient treatment." He ran a hand down his face and cleared his throat. "We're okay, kiddo. Why don't you two...get some sleep."

"Ya know," Elliot said, smiling, "I think now...we can." He gave Olivia a soft nudge, and then got up and took her hand.

Joe watched his son lead his girlfriend up the stairs, and once they were out of sight, he collapsed into the sofa and dropped his head into his hands. He had twenty-four hours to come up with the money needed for legal fees and Bernie's fines, and there was only one way he could possibly do it.

 **A/N: Oh no, Joe! What's he gonna do?**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: "In the moment after your fist first met my face, I swore to myself I would never hit my kids. I would never become you. The holes in my bedroom walls are proving me wrong." Ryan Kwik, age 12. Untitled Poem**

 **DISCLAIMER: Credit for inspiration and original creation goes to Dick Wolf. This version of the characters, events, and written story belongs to me. ::Evil laugh::**

"Liv!" a voice called.

Olivia turned and spotted Alex, running down the hall and pushing people out of her way. She stopped moving, reached out a hand to grab Elliot, and waited for her friend. "Hey, what's the...whoa!" She was nearly knocked over when Alex rushed into her, pulling her into a tight hug. "Not that I don't appreciate your undying love and affection, Lex, but what the hell?"

Alex pushed away, staring at Olivia. "Did you just curse?" She shot a harsh glance toward Elliot. "You got a mouth like a sailor and you're a bad influence on her."

He smirked and draped an arm around Olivia's shoulders, almost proud of himself for igniting her potty mouth. "What of it?" he teased.

Alex rolled her eyes and exhaled harshly. "Neanderthal," she mumbled, and then she refocused her bespectacled eyes on Olivia. "You're alive!" she searched Olivia up and down, even moved her hair and tried to lift her skirt, which earned her a swift kick to the shin. Rubbing her bruising leg, she said, "And you look relatively uninjured."

"Why would I…" and then it hit her. Olivia slowly paled, her head tilting. "Where is she?"

"Front office," Alex said, still easing the throb in her shin. "They were arguing about letting her any further into the building, Father Frank told her she has no legal right to be here. What's that about?"

Elliot let out a relieved sigh and pulled Olivia into his arms. "Dad," he whispered. "He actually fucking did it."

"How did you know that?" Olivia asked Alex, though her hands were shoving themselves into the back pockets of Elliot's pants.

Alex pushed her glasses up and shrugged, her armful of books jostling as she moved. "I was trying to convince Miss Saunders that I had cramps so she'd write me an excuse for gym, but she claimed I told her that last week, too. I was in the middle of telling her I probably had some sort of genetic disorder when...some guy in a suit brought your mom in, and I ducked into the hall before she could see me. I was listening, well, until Father Leon told me to get my blonde behind to class."

Elliot furrowed his brows. "When do you breathe?" he asked, shaking his head at the fast-talking girl. "Thanks for the warning, but as long as they're not letting her anywhere else in the building, we should go. You know Hunter gets his dick in a knot if we show up late."

Olivia and Alex chuckled at Elliot's wisecrack and headed down the hall toward the locker rooms. Alex watched with a grin as Elliot kissed Olivia before parting ways, heading into the boys' room. "Okay," Alex began, pulling Olivia through the girls' door. "What's that all about? She has no legal right? She's your...wait, did the cops find out you're adopted? Serena kidnapped you when you were a baby and you're really a princess?"

"Um, definitely not," Olivia rejected, swirling her combination into the lock on her locker. "El's dad, um...he...got some judge to let the jury watch that tape, ya know? The one where I had to…"

"Relive every single one of the worst moments of your life?" Alex snapped, yanking her school vest off and throwing it into her locker.

With a small laugh, Olivia said, "Yeah. Well, anyway, they watched the whole thing, and...they decided that it was proof enough that Serena Benson isn't mother material. This judge, uh, he also told Elliot's parents that they are now, at least for the next two years, my legal guardians. Not in that order, but...bottom line? Serena can't do shit about it."

"Where are you getting this language?" Alex cracked, slapping Olivia's bare arm as they changed into their gym uniforms. "But, you're serious? You never have to deal with her again?"

Olivia shook her head and was, again, thrust backward as Alex hurled herself around her friend. She pulled back quickly and tugged her tee shirt down. "Good, um. Wow, I...I feel like throwing you a party."

"Please don't," Olivia whined, rolling her eyes. She caught a glimpse of Kathy across the room, and she slammed her locker shut and spun her combination gear. "I had enough parties for one lifetime."

"You went to one," Alex dryly intoned, pulling up her navy blue sweatpants.

"One was enough," Olivia countered. She swept her hair into a ponytail and led Alex back out of the doors, turning quickly to head into the gymnasium. She had expected to be interrupting a game of volleyball or tennis, but when she walked into the very quiet gym, she stopped moving. "What's going on?" she whispered to the first person she could get close enough to, who happened to be the only person that mattered.

Elliot tugged on the waist of her pants, moving her closer to him, and he whispered, "Dunno," and then kissed her cheek. "We were told to line up and not move."

Cassidy, from the other side of Elliot, said in a loud whisper, "They're looking for something. They brought out the big guns." He pointed and jerked his head to where three uniformed officers stood, each holding onto the leash of a German Shepherd.

"What?" Elliot gasped, his eyes still narrow but his face more concerned now. "Those dogs…" he shook his head. "No, no way. No one here would be…"

"You know something, Stabler, you spill it, man," Cassidy interrupted, backing away as one of the cops moved closer to him with one of the dogs.

"Drugs," Elliot whispered. "These are drug-sniffing dogs." He slapped Cassidy in the arm. "Stand still or the cops'll think you got something to hide." He watched Cassidy fumble to stand upright as he straightened, almost like a soldier, and waited for the dog to get to him. He remained calm and still as the dog's nose poked around and then moved over to Olivia.

The dog nuzzled her as he sniffed and she looked up at the officer, who gave her a small smile and a slight nod, and with a grin, she scratched the shepherd behind its ear. She laughed when it licked her wrist, and then moved closer to Elliot as the cop tugged the leash to move onto the next group of people. "Why are they looking for drugs? Who would have drugs...here?" she asked in a whisper, turning back toward Elliot.

"No idea," he replied, shaking his head. "Someone had to have tipped them off, or Father Leon called them on suspicions, but I don't think anyone here would ever…"

The growling and barking cut off his words, and their heads snapped toward the corner of the gym where one of the dogs was tugging on the pant leg of a student. "Holy shit," Elliot spat, instinctively pulling Olivia closer and backing up.

"Is that…" Olivia squinted, tilted her head, and then her eyes widened. "Matthew?"

Cassidy craned his head to try to peer around the people in front of him. "What? Who?"

"Matt Malone," Elliot said to him. "Kathy's brother." The small group watched, stunned, as two other officers dragged Matt Malone out of the gym as the dog's handler tried to calm it down. "He's as straight-laced as they come, what the fu…"

Olivia cupped a hand over his mouth. "There's a line," she scolded with a smirk. She slid her hand to the side of his face and smiled more broadly. "Meet me in the middle, huh?"

He chuckled as he nodded, but then grabbed her hand and pulled it away from his face. "I will say ten Hail Marys and wash my mouth out with soap when we get home, but right now...I need to figure out what the fuck is going on."

Olivia rolled her eyes as Elliot tugged her toward the doors and out into the hall. "Where are we going?" she asked him, almost whining. "You're the one who said Coach Hunter would…"

"He can shove it," Elliot said, rounding a corner with Olivia by his side. "Excuse me?" he yelled, spotting the cops flanking Malone. "Hi, yeah, excuse me," he ran faster when they stopped. When he met them, he took a breath. "There's obviously been some sort of mistake, here," he looked at Matt and held out a hand. "I've known this kid since I was five. He's an athlete and he runs a group at church for…"

"Who are you?" one of the cops loosened his grip on Malone and glared at Elliot. "Oh, Stabler's kid?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "And you're making a mistake! Matt would never…"

"Look, kid," the other officer interjected. "Darko picked up the scent on this guy. He had a stash in his pants, and the dog is trained to…"

"I borrowed these pants!" Matt yelled. "I can prove it! The school sews our initials onto the tags, if we lose or damage them we have to pay for them, and if we don't have them for class we get detention! I'm on the lacrosse team! I can't miss practice!"

An officer made a snide comment and pulled on the waistline of Matt's sweatpants. "Okay, wiseass," he spat, "Who's QM?"

Matthew and Elliot looked at each other, and Elliot nodded. "You tell him, or I will," Elliot said to him.

Malone sighed. "Quentin McCoy," he scoffed, "Good luck pinning this on him. His father's some big shot lawyer." One officer gripped Malone tighter as the other jogged back toward the gym.

Elliot and Olivia watched the cop drag Matthew into the library. "Jesus H. Christ," Elliot huffed, rubbing his chin with a hand. "For a Catholic school, we certainly get our share of sinners, huh?" He turned to Olivia with a smile, and he leaned in to kiss her, but someone shouting his name from down the hall stopped him. He looked up fast, his eyes widened, and he pulled Olivia to the side of the hall.

Kathy ran toward him, yelling his name again, and threw her arms around him when she was close enough. "I saw that," she breathed, squeezing him tighter. She ignored the murderous look Olivia was giving her. "I saw what you did! You...I know what that means!" She pulled away but kept her hands on his shoulders, staring into his eyes and smiling adoringly. "I know," she repeated, and she began to move closer.

"Um," Elliot turned his head away and backed as far into the wall behind him as possible, and then used the hand that wasn't desperately clutching Olivia to pull Kathy off of him. "It means I wasn't gonna let your brother go down for shit he didn't do." He shook his head, fast and slight, and said, "I didn't do it for you."

"Oh, come on," Kathy batted her long eyelashes and her high blonde ponytail swooshed when she moved. "You don't have to lie to protect Benson, I'm sure she'd understand that you finally realized that she isn't worth…"

"Back off, Kathy!" Elliot yelled. The roar had the desired effect and Kathy stepped away from him. "You don't know when to quit! Stay away from me," he glared with narrow eyes. "And if you ever even think about saying anything about Liv again, I will…"

"Olivia?" The voice made Olivia freeze. Elliot felt her squeeze his hand hard, her eyes were laser-focused on a figure a few doors away, and he could practically hear her heart pound. "Relax," Elliot said to her, trying to get her attention away from her mother and onto him. "Baby, she can't come any closer, she can't go beyond that office, you know that. You don't have to even look at her."

Kathy looked at them strangely and then turned her head toward the woman down the hall. "Who is that?" she asked, and then she let her eyes drift back to Elliot, and then Olivia. "Is that your mother?"

Olivia felt a rumble in her stomach, she could taste the sour turn to bitter as the bile rose, and she sneered at Serena while squeezing Elliot's hand even harder. "No," she gritted out, "I don't have a mother."

Kathy snickered, folding her arms and leaning on one foot. "Well, everybody has a mother," she lowered her head and raised her eyes in condescension.

"I don't," Olivia bit back harder, her nostrils flared and her jaw clenched. "And I know what Elliot was gonna say, but I think we both don't believe he'd ever hit you." Her eyes flashed. "But I swear to God, I will. Leave him alone."

"You're gonna hit me?" Kathy asked incredulously. "Yeah, I'm sure you could do…" her words were stopped by a very sudden jerk of Olivia's body and a loud bang. Both of her hands cupped over her mouth to cover her gasp as she stepped back again, her wide eyes now staring at the small, round hole Olivia's fist had made in the drywall.

Olivia turned sharply, leaning into Kathy. "Try me," she dared, her wild eyes knowingly striking fear in the girl in front of her.

"Baby, easy," Elliot pulled her back into his arms and tried to keep anyone else from noticing the commotion. "Easy, enough...You're not me," he tried to laugh. He cupped her face and looked into her eyes, kissed her softly, and said, "Relax."

"God," she exhaled, and she dropped her head to his chest and took a deep breath, and then turned toward Kathy who still looked scared. "I'm sorry, that...that wasn't directed at you, that…"

"I pushed your buttons," Kathy admitted before Olivia could finish. "I baited you, and...I guess, I'm...I'm sorry, too." She leaned to her left and peered into the library door. "I should, um...go." She pointed and smiled at the door as she slowly moved out of view.

Serena, struggling to move away from a man in a suit next to her with his elbow hooked through hers, called to her daughter one last time. "Olivia! Come here, now, this is absurd!"

Elliot wouldn't even let Olivia turn her head. "Back to the gym," he spat, pushing her down the hall.

"But what about the hole?" she asked, craning to try to see over his head. "I actually put a hole in the wall?"

"Yeah, you did," he said with a nod. "Kathy's too scared to tell anyone, so we can just say your mother did it." He winked at her, finally seeing her loosen up and smile, and as they turned the corner to head into the gym, they passed the officer who had retrieved Quentin McCoy. When they walked through the gym doors, though, it was Elliot's turn to feel fury. "What the hell is he doing here?"

Olivia wrapped her other hand around their tangled fingers. "Maybe they called him because of my mother?"

"Doubtful," Elliot scoffed, catching the eye of his father as he stepped further into the gym. "Dad, what are you doing here?"

Joe licked his lips. "How are the two of you…"

"Her mom's here," Elliot said, "Is that why you're here?"

Joe shook his head, poking his cheek with his tongue. "Serena's here? Where?"

"Front office," Elliot returned coldly. "Thankfully, they won't let her past the gate. Now, last I checked, you didn't do drug busts. Why are you here?"

"The ADA called in a favor," Joe said, licking his lips. "I needed to come down here, talk to your gym teacher and the K9 unit, find out who called in the tip, and now I have to find these two schmucks and straighten out this…"

"Lemme guess," Elliot chided, shaking his head. "You're gonna sweep this all under the rug, protect the school and because McCoy's a lawyer, his kid gets nothing more than a slap on the wrist?" He saw the look on his father's face and spat, "When I get to where I'm going, I refuse to end up in someone's pocket. I'm not throwing shit out for anyone." He eyed Olivia. "Well...almost."

Joe wriggled his hands around in his pockets. "Sometimes, kiddo, you don't have a choice." He slapped his son gently on the shoulder and gave Olivia a soft kiss on the cheek. "See you two at home," he said, "I may be a little late, I have to take care of a few things at the bank." He nodded at them and then walked down the hall, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as the end of this cleverly orchestrated situation neared. He stuck his hand back in his pocket, fingers dragging along the folded seam of the check Jack McCoy had given him. "One day, son," he whispered to no one, "You'll understand."

 **A/N: What'd he do?**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: "It wasn't a random call from a neighbor, Mom never ratted you out. It was me who put an end to your reign of tyranny." Paul Forthern, Age 13. Untitled Poem**

 **DISCLAIMER: Credit for inspiration and original creation goes to Dick Wolf. This version of the characters, events, and written story belongs to me. ::Evil laugh::**

"Mom?" Elliot scrunched up his face as he gripped Olivia's hand tighter, pulling her into the house. He took a few hesitant steps toward the couch, where his mother was sitting and knitting. He tilted his head trying to figure out if the hot pink and neon yellow yarn would become a scarf or a sweater with very long and wide sleeves. "Ma, how are you feeling?"

Bernie looked up at her son with a bright smile, her hands still expertly weaving with her needles. "I'm fine, dear. How was school?"

Elliot let go of Olivia's hand and sat next to his mother, reaching for one of her wrists. "It was okay, uh, the usual…" he trailed off and thought it best not to bring up Serena or the drug raid, or the fact that his father was there trying to hush it all up. "How are you, really, Mom? Don't lie to me. Is everything…"

"I am fine," Bernie replied, looking over at him again. "The new medication the doctors prescribed isn't as awful as it was before, and I don't feel like a zombie all the time. I have been able to...think. To remember. And I just wanted to say that I am...so sorry, honey. About everything."

Elliot gave his mother a hug, relaxing for the first time in months, finally having her home and healthy.

Olivia gave them a soft but unnoticed smile as she hiked her messenger bag up on her shoulder and silently walked away, up the stairs, and into Elliot's room. She breezed past his sisters' rooms, hoping to go unnoticed, but when she plopped down on Elliot's bed and flipped open her bag, she felt the unmistakable sensation of being watched. She looked up, a notebook in her hands, and smiled sheepishly at Laura, one of Elliot's sisters.

"Can I come in?" Laura asked, resting one hand on the rim of the door jamb.

Olivia pressed her lips together. "It's not my room, so…" she shrugged.

Laura stepped into the room and looked around. "Jeez," she chuckled. "Does he have a thing for old movies, or what?" She laughed as her eyes scanned the room and fell on cinematic posters for every old cop movie from Dick Tracy to Dragnet. She moved closer to Olivia when she didn't get an answer, and she sat on the edge of Elliot's bed. "I just, um, wanted to see how you're doing."

Olivia tilted her head. She's only ever had one conversation with Laura and it wasn't exactly friendly. "I'm okay," she said, but it sounded more like a question. She opened her notebook, her confused eyes still on Laura.

"I know this is...hard for you," Laura said, scooting closer. "Things with your mom, not really knowing anything about your dad, and now my parents stepping in when...when you didn't exactly ask them to, I…"

"I didn't," Olivia said, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach. "I never asked, I swear…" she shook her head and backed up a bit. "I can go, I'm sorry if I invaded some kind of…"

Laura grabbed both of Olivia's hands, her eyes narrow. "No, no, no, sweetiee," she tried to calm her down. "I'm not upset, I'm just trying to say that...we've all thought of you as family for a while now, and we're all relieved Dad did what he did, because we...we would really be heartbroken if you had to go back to your mother, where you wouldn't be...safe." Laura let go of one of Olivia's hands and smiled at her. "In a way, I guess, we all kinda feel responsible for you. We're your family now, and it's okay for you to...start feeling that way."

Olivia sighed heavily. "Thank you," she said with a small but more genuine smile. "I didn't want any of you to think I was trying to just insert myself into your family because...I don't have one of my own."

"No one ever thought that's what you were doing," Laura affirmed, "I just…" she paused and offered another smile. "If you ever need to talk to someone, ya know, maybe about Elliot...or girl stuff you think he won't understand…"

"I tell him everything," Olivia laughed, "Even when it's about him, or my cramps." She gave Laura a knowing, teasing smile. "But thank you. That...that means a lot."

"Yeah, Laur," Elliot spoke from his doorway. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, grinning. "It does." He walked in and sat next to Olivia, looped an arm around her shoulders, and kissed her cheek. "You okay?" he whispered to her.

She nodded and dropped her head against his, whispering back, "I'm good."

Laura smiled at them and then stood up. "Well, I'll let you two get to your homework. Or, ya know, whatever you do in here when the door closes," she teased with wagging eyebrows.

"Aw, man, Laur, no!" Elliot grimaced and tossed one of his pillows at his sister. "Nothing, not like that. Not...not yet, anyway, and not with other people in the house! Jesus."

Laura laughed and whacked him with the pillow he'd thrown at her, and she said, "Okay, well, you can't blame me for thinking the worst! Besides," she looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. "You know that Ryan used Mom and Dad's bedroom once? They were downstairs watching some sappy movie." She made a disgusted face and shook quickly. "But, uh, I'm glad you two are smart enough to know that you're too young." She pointed at them. "You got plenty of time."

"We know," Elliot said, and he turned to press another kiss to Olivia's cheek. He heard his sister leave the room and moved his lips from Olivia's cheek to her mouth. He kissed her softly, bringing one hand under her chin. "Why," he asked, "did you leave me down there alone with my mother?"

She shrugged as she shook her head. "I guess I just...thought you needed time alone with her." She blink and the tears that were suddenly there began to fall. "Seeing you with her...made me realize that I'll never have that with…" she sobbed and fell into him. "What was she doing there? What did she want?"

Elliot cradled her head against his chest and stroked her hair back. "I don't know," he whispered softly. "But I know she can't get any closer than she was, she can't touch you at school and she sure as hell isn't allowed in this house." He kissed her head and rocked her gently.

She sniffled and pulled herself up, stopping her tears. "But if they told her she wasn't allowed to see me, to...to even try would've been pointless, then why the hell was she there?" She wipes her eyes. "It doesn't make sense."

"She's sober for the first time in how long," he told her, still cupping her face. "It's all sinking in that she did a lot of damage, she lost you, and she's pissed off about it." He kissed her again.

She blinked at him and nodded, knowing he was right. "Are you'd absolutely sure she can't…"

He pressed a finger to her lips. "She won't," he said, "ever." He kissed her once more and said, "You're safe, Liv. But, uh, my math grade isn't, so maybe we forget about Serena for a while and do this fucking homework." He tapped the notebook on her lap.

She laughed, loving that he always knew how to break the tension. "Yeah," she said, and she opened her notebook and reached into her messenger bag to grab a pencil. "What the…" her hand grabbed at something else, she pulled it out of her bag and let it dangle in her hand for a moment. "What is this?"

He furrier his brow and took it from her. "Gee, babe," he said, "It looks like someone left a locket in your bag. Now who would do such a thing?"

She looked over at him and watched, stunned, as he unclasped the necklace. "You...why?"

He gave his arms a whirl, slipping the necklace around her neck. He clipped it, slid the clasp to the back, and then slowly opened the heart-shaped pendant. "Because," he whispered, "A long time ago, you had a necklace like this. You never took it off, and one day, you climbed through my window, and it was broken. Half the front heart was snapped off, the picture inside was gone, but you still refused to take it off."

"I remember," she said softly. And when she looked down at the open locket, she gasped.

"One night, you came up here and it was gone," he continued his story. "You told me she ripped it off your neck, threw it out. You said...you said it was like she was ripping away the only thing that made her family." He smiled at the two photos he had put into the locket. One, just her and him, the other, her with him and his parents. "Now, you...you have it back, and this doesn't make you her family," he choked on his words as he said, "It makes you mine."

Being brought to tears again this time didn't bother her because they were happy ones, and she kissed him softly and whispered, "This one...this one is never coming off."

"Damn right," he said with a wink. Then he held up a hand. "I know, I know. Watch the language." He laughed with her, then really did grab two pencils out of her bag. He held one out to her as he flicked the other and they set off on the task of their homework.

They were nearly done, only stopping to make out twice, when Joe Stabler knocked on the door. He didn't wait for an answer before opening it, and he smiled at Elliot and Olivia as they practically leaped apart. "Dinner's almost ready, but, uh…" he rubbed a hand over his stubbled chin. "I need to talk to you guys."

"We were just kissing," Elliot rolled his eyes. "Christ, everyone in this family thinks I'm a sex-fiend because my girlfriend shares the bed with me, well, news flash! I'm raised a bit better than that, and fifteen is too damn young!"

Joe his the smile well as he spoke. "Glad to hear that, sport, but I wasn't gonna sit here and have that kinda talk with you." He chuckled as Elliot reddened. "I just wanted you to know...no charges were filed against your friends. It was a first offense, and the only reason Narcotics even knew there were drugs in the building was because someone called them. They think it was a set-up, so…" he rubbed his chin. "They've been suspended, and they both have to submit to mandatory drug tests every two weeks, but they're futures are...relatively intact. Jack McCoy is pissed off at his son, so he might not live to see sixteen."

The kids chuckled, but then Elliot shook his head. "Dad, I need to ask you…" he took a breath. "You were called because you're Mister McCoy's friend, yeah?" His father nodded. "When we ran into you, you said you needed to go to the bank, so I just have to ask…" he narrowed his eyes. "How much did McCoy pay you to make this go away?"

Joe exhaled, a very long, slow breath, and turned to leave his son's room. "Come wash up for dinner, and help set the table." He walked out into the hallway, realizing that his son was a lot smarter than anyone gave him credit for, and would make one hell of a cop someday. A better cop than he was. Especially now.

 **A/N: Why was Serena at the school? More class time, and something happens to Alex! And then...a summer break that changes everything.**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: "I stood up for myself on the very same night you tried to make sure I would never stand up again." Paul Forthern, Age 13. Untitled Poem**

 **DISCLAIMER: Credit for inspiration and original creation goes to Dick Wolf. This version of the characters, events, and written story belongs to me. ::Evil laugh::**

"And who can tell me what that means?" Miss Brenner scanned the room. "This is going to be on the final, my little scholars, someone give it a shot." She looked expectantly at Olivia, who always had an analytical answer, but it seemed she wasn't even paying attention. "Miss Benson?"

Olivia's head popped up, but the locket remained between her fingers. She's been staring at the pendant, wondering what it meant, what it didn't mean, and ignoring everything else. "Um," she straightened up a bit and shifted in her seat. "I…"

"Pardon the interruption Miss Brenner," Father Frank said with a plastered on smile. He moved closer to speak more discreetly.

Olivia let out the breath she was holding, having been saved from giving an incorrect or idiotic answer. She leaned over to Elliot and asked, "What the hell was she asking me?"

He chuckled and reached out a hand to brush her hair behind her ear. "She asked us about the meaning behind the narrator hearing his victim's heartbeat coming from the floorboards." He hooked a dark curl around his finger and asked, "And what were you thinking about so intensely that you completely…"

"Excuse me, class," Brenner clutched a string of pearls and gestured wildly with her free hand, "We need to very calmly head to the gym." She tried to speak over the murmurs and chatter. "Please, leave everything here, line up, quickly."

Elliot shot to his feet and shoved his stuff and hers into his bag. "Not leaving anything here," he mumbled, and then he grabbed her hand and walked her through the classroom, breezing by the other kids. He pulled her out into the hallway, leading her toward the gymnasium.

"Wonder what's going on," she said, linking her fingers tightly with his.

Coming up behind them, Brian Cassidy looped his arms around his friends. "End of Semester Assembly," he said with a grin. "They had to move it up a week because a little birdie told me that school's out for summer, as of tomorrow."

Olivia's eyes bulged. "What? What about finals? What about…"

"No one but you gives a shit about finals, Brainiac McGee," Brian cracked. He cleared his throat, looked around, and lowered his voice. "Guys, uh, this school...is being shut down." He saw their ghost-white faces, shock and fear in their eyes, and he nodded glumly. "Too much shit happened here, I mean...serious shit. Dirty Dalton, a psycho on the grounds, students almost arrested, drugs in the gym, pregnant students...I mean, the Diocese is furious and the city in even more pissed off, so…"

Elliot choked and stopped him. "Whoa, what? Who the fuck is pregnant?"

Cassidy held up three fingers on the hand that was looped around Olivia's shoulders. "Tonya Anderson, Megan Monroe, and Jenny DiCarlo. Made some kind of pact or some shit. It's hitting the headlines tomorrow, that's why…"

"So the little birdie is your father?" Elliot guessed, since, after the last shocking article, John Cassidy made nice with several reporters and editors to make sure his son and his friends were never blindsided again.

With a single nod, Cassidy sighed. "This is the end of Holy Cross, guys."

"So what does that mean for us?" Olivia interjected, her slight frame shrinking smaller as she curled into Elliot. She turned to look up at him. "Where are we all supposed to go?"

Elliot shrugged but kissed her forehead. "Guess that's what they're gonna tell us in the gym." He tugged her along, intentionally kissing her again as they passed by Kathy, just to remind her that he was still very much Olivia's.

They walked into the gym and headed for a row in the middle, squeezing between legs and chair backs to get to empty seats. They plopped down and almost immediately Elliot dropped his bag to his feet and pulled Olivia closer, wrapped an arm around her waist, and kissed her temple.

Feedback from the cheap microphone and sound system screeched throughout the room. Father Leon cleared his throat when it faded. "My beloved students, it is with a...with a terribly heavy heart I have to tell you all...as of four o'clock this afternoon, Holy Cross Catholic Academy will be shutting its doors."

There were gasps and audible cries, unholy cuss words and loud hollers, and Father Leon raised both hands to quiet the crowd. "Please, relax, children. Please, listen to me." He waited until it was deadly silent. "Arrangements have been made with some other local schools, for you all to take your finals at their facilities after hours. When your testing is finished, I am afraid...so then is your time here at Holy Cross."

Kids shouted at him, yelled questions like, "How could you let this happen?" and "Where are we supposed to go next year?" "What about Prom?" "What about graduation?" and one brave soul yelled, "This fucking blows!"

It earned Cassidy an elbow to the ribs courtesy of Olivia. "Shut up, Cass," she hissed, and then turned her reddening eyes back toward Father Leon, who was commanding silence again.

The priest spoke with as calm a voice as possible. "We have sent your parents a list of potential schools, all of whom will be willing to accept you in the fall if we are unable to reopen our doors...under new mastership, of course." He ran a finger over his stiff white collar. "Prom and graduation have not been affected, you will still have your momentous rites of passage, just...not here. The senior prom will be held on the Spirit of Manhattan cruise line, a boat ride around the harbor, dinner, and of course, dancing. Graduation will commence at the scheduled time on the football field of Queens College. Any other questions must be directed to Father Michael and the ladies in the front office, and only if they pertain to information that isn't given in the literature your parents have received. I…" he choked on his words and his voice broke. "I love you all. Now please, go directly to your lockers, clean them out completely, and...go home."

He left the room quickly through the back exits, leaving the students and staff stunned. Elliot looked at Olivia and sighed, but he tried to smile as he said, "You still get to take your finals."

She shook her head, not smiling at his attempt to lighten the mood. "This...this isn't right. This is wrong. What are we…"

"Hey," he whispered, holding her still. "My parents are your legal guardians, I'm pretty sure that no matter what happens, we'll still be in the same school." He winked at her. "You will be the best student in the class no matter where the hell we go. If it's me you're worried about, I can play football anywhere, I mean, look how many offers I've already had to play for other teams."

Again she shook her head, and she tried to keep from crying. "Cass, Alex, our...our friends."

"What, all two of them?" Elliot scoffed. "I'm pretty sure they won't be moving off the block if they have to go to a different school. But you know who we absolutely won't have to deal with?"

She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. "Kathy?"

Nodding slowly, his smile grew into a wicked smirk, and he kissed her as he pulled her up to her feet. "Her parents will probably send her to some ritzy prep school in Manhattan, and no matter how many lawyers pay off my dad, we can't afford that shit." He flinched. "I know, watch the language."

Letting herself laugh, she took a breath, and she walked with him toward their lockers. "Hey, ya know, speaking of Alex, I haven't seen her today. Have you?"

"No, Brian," he looked over toward Cassidy. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"Ex," Cassidy spat back. "And I have no idea." He stopped in front of his locker and hit it once, popping it open. "Someone gave her the idea that she didn't mean anything to me and she broke up with me." He glared at Elliot.

In response, Elliot simply chuckled. "And how many girls have you mended your broken heart with since?"

Cassidy smirked. "Four," he said, and he shoved everything that was laying at the bottom of his locker into his bookbag. "I'll call you guys tonight after my dad tells me more about what's really going on around here. I guess, uh…" he shrugged. "School's out." He slammed his locker and ran toward the front doors of the school, singing like Alice Cooper at the top of his lungs.

"Why are we friends with him?" Olivia asked honestly, waiting for Elliot to open the lock on his locker.

"Because he makes me look like a saint, and the more time we spend him, the more you're bound to love and appreciate me," he quipped, and then he gathered their things out of the metal box.

She turned to him, taking her messenger bag from him, and she said, "I don't think that's possible. I already…"

"Liv?" Alex's voice was soft, almost a whisper, as she tapped her friend on the shoulder.

Olivia turned and then gasped as she pulled Alex into a hug. "Lex, oh, my God," she pushed back and stared at the small but dark bruise on her cheek and asked, "What happened?"

Alex blinked once and looked at Elliot. "Can I come home with you guys?" she asked, sniffling and wiping her eyes. "I need...God, Stabler, I think I need to talk to your father."

 **A/N: What happened to Alex? Finals! And a summer to remember. Coming up.**


End file.
